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THE  MAGIC  OF  A  VOICE. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A  VOICE 


A  NOVEL 


BY 

MARGARET    RUSSELL  MACFARLANE 


CASSELL  &  COMPANY,  LIMITED 

739  &  741  Broadway,  New  York 


' 


M3 


COPYRIGHT, 

1886, 
By  O.  M.  DUNHAM. 


Press  of  W.  L.   Mershon  &  Co. 
Rahway,  N  .  J. 


TO 

ELSA  VON   STRALENDORFF. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A  VOICE. 


i. 


T  ETTER  from  Leopold  Uhlheim  to 
\_j  Count  Louis  de  Vere,  attache"  of  the 
French  Embassy  at  Berlin. 

SCHLOSS  KARTLOW,  MECKLENBURG, 

June  ii,  18 — . 

MY  DEAR  LOUIS  :  You  ask  how  I  like  it,  or, 
in  your  characteristic  way,  if  it  is  so  very  bad. 
It  might  be  worse,  and  it  serves  my  purpose, 
which  is  to  gain  time.  No  one  likes  to  be  a 
pack-horse  ;  moreover,  the  position  of  tutor  in 
this  half  feudal  country  is  not  an  enviable  one. 
It  is  that  of  an  upper  servant  tolerated  at  the 
family  board — not  so  bad  for  me,  however,  as  I 
knew  these  people  in  the  South  last  year  when 
I  was  rich  and  independent.  Frau  von 
Althaus,  hearing  of  my  misfortune,  asked  me 
to  come  here  to  teach  her  nephew  during  the 


10  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

summer.  After  all,  how  could  I  do  better?  I 
love  the  country,  and  the  alternative  offered 
me  by  my  worthy  uncle,  that  of  being  chained 
to  a  stool  in  the  stifling  air  of  a  city  office, 
would  kill  me.  Here  I  have  every  thing  befit 
ting  a  country  gentleman  but  the  position, 
while  I  am  saved  the  weight  that  responsibility 
would  incur.  Is  not  this  philosophical  ?  Then 
too,  they  treat  one  well  I  must  confess.  Possi 
bly  my  absurd  pride  needs  discipline.  It  gets 
it  in  this  position. 

The  boy,  Victor,  is  nineteen,  not  clever,  but 
lovable,  and  fonder  of  his  violin  than  of  math 
ematics,  wherein  he  is  wise.  There  are  two 
girls,  one  fair,  the  other  dark,  both  pretty,  but 
without  a  marked  individuality.  The  aunt,  a 
widow  and  a  thorough  woman  of  the  world,  is 
clever  and  sympathetic  and  possesses  a  degree 
of  tact  surpassed  by  few.  Do  not  smile,  Sir 
Cynic.  There  is  no  danger,  as  you  shall  pres 
ently  learn.  Indeed  I  think  that  you  will  pres 
ently  be  convinced  that  I  am  insane. 

You  have  always  thought  me  a  sensible, 
practical  man.  My  self-control  has  at  times 
commanded  your  respect.  My  calm  under 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  \  I 

trying  circumstances  has  won  your  approba 
tion.  I  like  to  dwell  on  these  things,  for  I  am 
about  to  upset  all  your  theories,  and  expose 
myself  to  your  impartial  judgment,  which  will 
no  doubt  be  harsh.  I  need  severe  measures, 
for  I  am  like  a  man  who  has  seen  a  ghost  ;  he 
does  not  expect  others  to  believe  in  his  hallu 
cination,  and  yet  nothing  can  weigh  against  the 
evidence  of  his  senses.  I  am  dazed.  I  lay  the 
case  before  you,  my  friend.  Bring  to  bear  on 
it  all  your  forcible  argument.  Bring  me  to 
reason  if  you  can  and  I  shall  count  you  doubly 
my  friend. 

Ten .  days  ago  I  left  D  — ,  traveling  over 
country  roads  for  twenty  miles.  It  was  just 
after  a  rain  and  the  roads  were  in  a  bad  state, 
making  it  tedious  for  man  and  beast.  My 
mind  was  engrossed  in  my  own  affairs  and  I 
hardly  took  note  of  my  surroundings.  I  was 
on  my  way  to  Kartlow  to  begin  a  life  very 
different  from  the  one  my  fancy  had  pictured 
six  months  ago.  The  sun  went  down,  and  the 
long  northern  twilight  set  in.  We  were  at  the 
foot  of  a  long  hill  which  seemed  a  hard  pull  for 
the  tired  horses.  I  jumped  out  to  lighten  the 


12  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

burden  while  the  vehicle  toiled  on  and  disap 
peared  in  the  dusk.  I  was  standing  on  the 
edge  of  a  small  pond.  The  faint  hues  of  the 
setting  sun  lingered  in  the  west,  and  the  hills 
were  indistinctly  outlined  against  the  sky. 
Occasionally  the  notes  of  the  nightingale 
sounded  mournfully  in  the  air.  The  scene  was 
still  and  restful.  I  sat  down  on  a  stone  and 
buried  my  face  in  my  hands.  I  do  not  know 
why  I  should  have  been  overwhelmed  with  a 
sense  of  lost  opportunities  at  that  moment,  but 
regret  swept  over  me  keenly. 

Suddenly  a  voice  rose  on  the  stillness,  sing 
ing  divinely.  I  can  not  tell  you  what,  it  sang, 
but  the  burden  of  its  song  was  a  wild  lament 
which  racked  my  heart  with  pain.  My  own 
troubles  sank  into  insignificance  beside  the  tale 
of  woe  it  breathed.  The  clear,  full  tones  echoed 
and  re-echoed  through  the  dark  wood  ;  now 
loud,  now  soft,  now  bursting  into  a  wild 
melody,  then  sinking  in  a  low  wail  like  the  cry 
of  something  wounded  unto  death.  It  was  a 
woman's  voice,  human  in  its  protest,  human  in 
its  appeal,  a  wild,  passionate  voice  that  none 
could  hear  unmoved.  I  found  myself  embody- 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  13 

ing  this  voice  in  a  divine  form  with  streaming 
hair  and  glowing  eyes.  Tall  and  well  molded, 
a  woman  who  had  been  tried  by  sorrow ;  she 
knew  whereof  she  sang.  It  was  no  fancy,  but 
reality ;  a  passionate  yearning  cry  that  found 
relief  in  utterance.  It  ended  in  a  theme  of 
exaltation,  broad  and  grand,  as  though  to  put 
a  cloister-wall  between  itself  and  the  cold 
world. 

I  listened  spellbound. 

Suddenly  a  light  flashed  in  my  eyes  and 
roused  me.  Behind  a  clump  of  bushes  stood  a 
low  peasant  hut  which  I  had  not  before 
noticed.  Through  the  door  just  opened  the  fire 
light  streamed  out  into  the  darkness.  The 
great  brick  chimney  was  filled  with  burning 
peat ;  a  kettle  hung  on  a  hook  over  the  fire,  and 
the  smoke  curled  out  and  up  through  the  raft 
ers  to  find  escape  in  the  roof  above,  casting 
fantastic  shadows  on  the  whitewashed  walls  as 
it  ascended.  In  the  doorway,  peering  anxiously 
out  into  the  darkness,  stood  a  woman  in  peas 
ant  garb  with  a  child  slung  over  her  shoulder. 
She  was  tall  and  broad  shouldered.  Her  brown 
hair  was  faded  in  dull  streaks  by  the  sun,  her 


14  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

eyes  were  heavy  with  care  and  gave  her  the 
expression  of  a  beast  of  burden. 

Where  was  the  ideal  conjured  by  my  imagi 
nation  ?  Surely,  not  she !  The  door  closed 
and  left  me  chilled.  The  hut  had  disappeared 
in  the  gloom,  the  voice  was  dumb,  and  the 
unmusical  tones  of  my  driver  from  the  top  of 
the  hill  reminded  me  that  my  journey  still  lay 
before  me.  I  stumbled  on  in  silence.  I  drove 
on  as  in  a  lethargy  and  awoke  to  find  myself 
close  to  Schloss  Kartlow.  Do  you  think,  Louis, 
that  the  vision  of  the  peasant  woman  brought 
me  to  my  senses?  No,  I  heard  the  voice  wak 
ing,  sleeping.  When  I  was  sad  it  cheered  me, 
when  I  was  lonely  it  gave  me  companionship. 
At  night  it  took  form  in  my  dreams  ;  by  day  I 
saw  her  in  the  shadows  of  the  woods. 

For  four  days  I  bore  this  spell  passively, 
knowing  that  my  impulse  to  examine  that  hut 
was  madness  and  meant  only  disappointment. 
At  last  I  could  stand  it  no  longer  and  I  found 
my  way  back  to  the  woods  by  the  mysterious 
pond.  The  hut  was  deserted.  A  man  work 
ing  near  by  told  me  that  the  former  occupants, 
a  laborer  with  his  wife  and  child,  had  left  the 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  15 

place  that  day.  Four  days  before,  the  man's 
sister  had  died,  and  directly  after  the  funeral 
the  family  had  emigrated  to  America.  The 
girl  was  dying  that  night,  Louis.  Did  I  hear 
her  soul  breathing  itself  out  in  music  like  a 
dying  swan  ?  It  touched  a  chord  in  me  never 
before  awakened.  I  have  always  fancied  that 
I  should  meet  my  fate  through  music,  and  this 
woman's  voice  has  stirred  my  soul  to  its  very 
depths.  I  found  her  but  to  lose  her. 

Perchance  she  watches  over  me  and  knows 
the  bitterness  of  my  regret.  She  is  a  beautiful 
memory  that  crowds  out  the  real  and  fills  my 
heart  with  longing.  Now  tell  me  what  you 
think  of  me.  You  have  known  me  many  years. 
I  know  this  is  madness.  Bring  me  to  reason  ; 
and  yet — I  almost  wish  that  you  would  not. 
I  await  your  answer  with  impatience. 

LEOPOLD. 

Letter  from  Louis,  Count  de  Vere,  in  Berlin, 
to  Leopold  Uhlheim  at  Schloss  Kartlow  in 
Mecklenburg. 

BERLIN,  June  15,  18 — . 

MY  GOOD  FRIEND  :  Your  state  of  mind  defies 
analysis.  Give  up  night  wandering  and  take 


16  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

to  metaphysics.  There  is  nothing  that  knocks 
the  nonsense  out  of  one  more  quickly.  If  you 
must  fall  in  love,  do  not  let  it  be  with  a  shadow. 
Take  the  widow,  for  instance.  A  ten  mile 
walk  daily  will  soon  drive  away  your  hallucina 
tions.  I  do  not  laugh  at  you.  I  am  somewhat 
alarmed  at  this  new  development,  which  proves 
that  the  strain  on  your  mind  has  been  too 
great  for  your  endurance.  I  know  your  pupil — 
nice  boy.  I  am  coming  to  visit  him  and  you 
at  Kartlow  for  a  week,  later.  Will  talk  or 
shake  you  into  reason  then  if  you  have  not 
already  forgotten  what  I  hope  is  only  a  tempo 
rary  fit  of  depression.  After  all,  was  not  the 
worthy  uncle  right  ?  You  would  have  had  no 
time  for  dreams  in  his  office. 

Always  yours, 

Louis. 


II. 

WHEN  General  von  Rabenhorst  first  fell 
heir  to  the  estate  of  Rabenhorst  by  an 
accident,  he  hardly  echoed  the  congratulations 
of  his  friends.  The  former  master,  a  man  in 
the  prime  of  life,  and  his  two  sons,  just  verging 
on  manhood,  had  been  venturesome  climb 
ers  whose  ambition  had  been  to  scale  the 
highest  mountain  peak  yet  unconquered  by 
man.  So  they  neglected  their  lands  at  home 
and  traveled  in  foreign  countries.  No  wonder 
the  wiseacres  wagged  their  heads  and  foretold 
disaster.  When  they  were  precipitated  into 
a  yawning  crevasse  on  the  Jungfrau,  it  was  no 
more  than  had  been  expected. 

But  to  General  von  Rabenhorst  the  sudden 
extinction  of  the  branch  of  the  family  whose 
sons  had  inherited  the  estates  of  his  ancestors 
for  centuries,  was  horribly  unexpected. 

The  shock  dulled  the  satisfaction  he  might 
otherwise  have  felt  at  the  prospect  of  trans- 


1 8  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

mitting  his  inheritance  to  his  sons.  He  was  a 
soldier,  of  a  race  of  soldiers  who  had  carved 
their  way  to  the  top  by  good  use  of  their  trusty 
swords,  and  a  soldier's  life  of  restless  activity 
had  ill-fitted  him  for  the  quiet  existence  of  a 
country  gentleman.  To  be  sure,  he  might  do 
as  his  predecessors  had  done  and  spend  his 
winters  at  the  capital  and  his  summers  where 
fancy  led  him,  but  he  thought  of  the  chances 
of  the  Jungfrau  with  a  shudder.  No,  given 
an  inheritance,  it  behooved  him  to  guard  it, 
and  he  was  not  a  man  to  shirk  his  duty.  More 
over,  there  was  another  reason  to  reconcile  him 
to  his  newly  acquired  lands. 

He  had  married  late  in  life  a  beautiful,  delicate 
wife  who  had  borne  him  two  sons  and  a  daugh 
ter.  At  the  time  of  the  accident  which  changed 
his  fortunes,  her  health  was  rapidly  failing. 
The  family  estate  of  Rabenhorst  lay  in  the 
extreme  north  of  Mecklenburg,  bordering  on 
the  Baltic  shore.  It  was  shut  out  from  the 
busy  world  by  the  roughness  of  the  country 
roads,  that  were  the  only  means  of  reaching  the 
highway  leading  to  the  town  of  D — ,  some  ten 
English  miles  distant.  In  the  severe  northern 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  19 

winter  the  inhabitants,  cut  off  by  heavy  snows, 
were  almost  isolated. 

Except  for  an  occasional  drive  to  church,  or 
a  house-warming  in  honor  of  a  birthday,  the 
monotony  of  existence  was  rarely  broken.  But 
in  summer  the  strong  sea  breeze  swept  over 
the  land,  the  dark  foliage  was  alive  with  night 
ingales,  and  the  air  was  laden  with  the  sweet 
scent  of  roses. 

To  this  retreat  General  von  Rabenhorst 
brought  his  wife  one  clear  spring  day,  trusting 
she  might  breathe  in  new  life  from  the  bracing  air 
that  blew  from  the  Baltic.  "  Hier  ist  Ruhe  !  " 
she  murmured. 

As  the  summer  days  grew  longer  she  revived 
again,  her  cheek  regained  its  hue  of  health,  her 
eye  its  brightness,  and  her  step  its  old  elas 
ticity. 

General  von  Rabenhorst  was  satisfied,  and 
found  work  for  his  idle  hours.  In  the 
absence  of  the  master  the  estates  had  been 

I 

neglected — so  he  called  the  false  steward,  who 
had  exercised  no  supervision  for  years,  to  strict 
account  ;  he  reorganized  his  forces  and  took 
command,  and  under  his  systematic  rule  the 


20  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

fields  began  to  thrive  and  brirg  in  three-fold. 
Order  was  restored  where  chaos  had  reigned. 

When  the  long  winter  came,  there  was  no 
thought  of  going  back  to  the  capital. 

"  Let  us  remain,"  said  his  wife,  and  he  was 
quite  ready  to  agree. 

Meanwhile  the  sons,  Ulrich  and  Otto,  grew  to 
be  sturdy,  fine  youths,  with  the  fighting  instinct 
of  their  race.  They  rode,  hunted,  or  swam 
boldly  out  from  the  rocky  shore  with  daring 
that  thrilled  their  old  father's  heart  with  pride. 
When  they  outgrew  the  authority  of  their  tutor 
at  home  and  the  time  for  sending  them  to  a 
university  came,  he  evinced  no  surprise  at  their 
choice  of  a  military  career,  as  their  restless 
spirits  were  like  his  own. 

He  only  said  with  an  air  of  remonstrance  to 
Otto,  the  younger,  who  was,  according  to  the 
custom  of  the  family,  the  heir: 

"  But  this  will  unfit  you  for  your  future,  my 
son." 

Otto  shook  his  head  gayly  and  answered  : 

"  Time  enough,  my  father.  You  were  a  sol 
dier  too."  And  when  the  old  man  looked  back 
on  his  youth  and  remembered  how  eagerly  he 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  21 

had  gone  forth  to  fight  the  world,  he  could  not 
gainsay  him. 

The  mother,  with  her  slender  daughter  by 
her  side,  looked  proudly  at  her  two  fair  boys, 
who,  when  they  left  the  paternal  nest,  would 
come  so  rarely,  and  argued  gently  : 

"Would  it  not  be  better  for  Otto  to  learn 
the  Landwirthschaft  ?  "  but  she  was  overruled 
by  the  eagerness  of  his  desire. 

The  Rabenhorsts  had  always  been  most  con 
servative.  The  family,  dating  back  to  the 
twelfth  century,  had  been  the  last  to  give  up 
its  feudal  rights.  In  those  old  days  it  had  been 
allied  to  the  reigning  powers,  and  no  son  or 
daughter  was  allowed  to  forget  the  honor  this 
alliance  entailed.  Pride  of  race  was  bred  in  the 
bone.  The  general  possessed  all  the  prejudices 
of  his  ancestors  and  instilled  them  into  his  sons. 

"  For  honor  all  "  was  the  Rabenhorst  motto. 
It  was  engraven  on  the  hearts  of  his  sons.  "  A 
title  !"  he  was  wont  to  say,  "What  is  a  title? 
Our  race  is  older  than  the  petty  title  of  baron." 
And  although  this  was  his  title,  he  rarely  used 
it,  signing  himself  proudly,  "  Rabenhorst,"  as 
though  he  were  a  king. 


22  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

The  winter  came  again  and  shut  them  in. 
It  was  more  severe  than  any  previous  one  since 
they  came  to  Rabenhorst.  The  fierce  winds 
blew  the  snow  in  great  drifts  around  the  house 
and  lashed  the  sea  to  fury. 

Little  Elsa  was  a  tall,  slender  maid  with  ash 
blonde  hair.  Her  large  violet  eyes  questioned 
mutely  and  her  serious  mouth  rarely  smiled. 
Unlike  her  brothers  she  was  frail  and  delicate, 
and  the  blue  veins  in  her  temples  showed  faintly 
beneath  the  clear  white  skin.  She  was  like  a 
breath  of  sea  mist  which  might  be  blown  away 
by  too  sudden  a  blast.  One's  first  impulse  was 
to  pity  her  delicacy  as  an  evidence  of  ill 
health,  but  when  one  looked  into  her  clear 
eyes,  or  watched  the  lithe  figure  tripping 
over  the  rocks  that  lined  the  shore,  her 
elasticity  of  movement  betokened  a  perfect 
organization.  Although  slender  she  was  well 
rounded.  She  had  no  angles  ;  her  arms  tapered 
from  shoulder  to  wrist,  like  those  of  a 
Psyche  ;  her  eyes  darkened  and  deepened  with 
each  varying  emotion,  and  her  sensitive  lips 
quivered  at  a  harsh  word  from  any  one  she 
loved.  She  had  a  quick  imperious  way  with 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A   VOICE  23 

her  inferiors,  a  gesture  of  command  like  her 
father,  and  her  eye  would  flash  scornfully  at 
any  act  of  cowardice.  She  stood  in  awe  of  her 
father,  but  adored  her  gentle  mother,  who  was 
instructress,  counselor  and  friend  in  one.  To 
her  she  laid  bare  her  child  heart  with  all  its 
joys  and  griefs,  but  in  her  father's  presence  she 
preserved  a  shy  silence.  He  did  not  under 
stand  his  little  daughter.  She  was  so  different 
from  the  frank,  sturdy  sons  whose  characters 
were  reflected  in  their  faces.  There  was  noth 
ing  mysterious  about  them — no  nonsense,  no 
dreams.  Their  problems  were  easily  solved  ; 
but  this  mysterious  maid,  whom  the  general 
sometimes  found  perched  in  a  high  window 
in  the  tower  looking  dreamily  out  to  sea, 
inspired  the  blunt  old  man  with  mixed 
feelings.  He  was  inclined  to  scold  her  for 
being  different,  and  yet  he  did  not  know 
wherein  she  was  different.  She  never  asked 
unnecessary  questions ;  she  was  too  wise,  and 
she  possessed  marvelous  intuition,  intensified 
by  this  mystic  something  which  her  matter-of- 
fact  old  father  did  not  comprehend. 

If  he  had  but  known,  it  was  the  music  in 


24  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

her  nature  struggling  for  utterance.  Music 
tickles  the  senses  of  the  masses,  touches  the 
emotions  of  many  and  the  intellect  of  a  few,  but 
it  is  often  a  language  of  unintelligible  sounds 
because  the  interpreter  is  merely  an  imitator. 
Let  a  composition  be  given  as  perfectly  as  is 
mechanically  possible,  it  will  not  appeal  to  the 
listener  unless  it  is  rendered  with  individuality. 
It  is  the  spirit,  not  the  letter,  that  is  wanted. 
The  interpreter  must  not  only  give  the  com 
poser's  ideas,  but  he  must  weld  himself  into 
them  until  they  become  a  part  of  himself. 
Then  if  the  story  is  worth  the  telling,  the 
instrument  and  the  individual  are  forgotten  in 
the  ecstasy  of  musical  thought  evoked  by  his 
magic  touch.  In  this  annihilation  of  self  lies 
true  art.  Let  an  artist  take  up  the  theme  and 
it  gains  life  and  breathes  a  new  inspiration. 
Many  have  this  musical  nature,  but  few  are 
gifted  with  the  power  of  expression,  either 
in  words  like  Heine  or  in  music  like  Chopin. 
They  are  born  dumb,  but  with  an  apprecia 
tion  which  compensates  them  in  part  for 
their  inability  to  express  their  aspirations  in 
music. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  25 

Elsa  was  one  of  those  happy  beings  born 
not  only  with  aspirations,  but  also  with  the  gift 
of  their  expression.  As  yet  she  was  in  her 
alphabet. 

To  her  the  screaming  of  the  sea  gull  and  the 
trilling  of  the  nightingale  suggested  music,  and 
when  her  mother  guided  her  through  the  first 
exercises  the  little  ringers  would  group  them 
selves  into  chords  and  simple  harmonies  unwrit 
ten  in  the  books.  She  wished  to  soar  ere  yet 
her  wings  were  grown. 

In  the  long  dull  days  that  followed  the 
departure  of  the  brothers,  Elsa's  mother  taught 
her  the  mysteries  of  embroidery.  Cross  stitch 
and  feather  stitch  were  sore  trials  to  her,  for 
her  mind  would  wander  out  over  the  sea  to 
that  Elfland  of  Sweden,  peopled  by  her  vivid 
imagination  with  all  sorts  of  wonders,  and  her 
eyes  drooping  with  sleep  would  follow  the  fairies 
further  into  dreamland. 

Meanwhile  letters  filled  with  minute  details 
of  their  college  life  came  from  the  brothers. 
They  had  already  fought  their  first  duels,  and 
bore  scars  of  honor  on  their  brows,  the  thought 
of  which  made  their  mother  shudder  and  Elsa's 


26  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

heart  to  expand  with  pride,  for  on  that  little 
heart  as  well  was  engraven,  "  For  honor  all". 

The  general  laughed  and  re-lived  his  young 
days  in  these  experiences.  Although  these 
were  mock  duels,  with  the  body  well  protected, 
they  proved  that  the  boys  were  fearless  and  did 
not  shrink  from  pain. 

One  dark  day  there  was  a  duel  fought 
without  guards  and  the  victim  was  the  eldest 
son.  Some  hasty  quarrel  about  a  trifle,  pro 
voked  by  a  hot  blooded  Southerner,  it  was 
said,  a  challenge,  a  sword  thrust,  and  all  was 
over. 

In  the  first  days  of  mourning  fresh  disaster 
followed  at  Rabenhorst.  The  little  mother, 
prematurely  cast  by  this  cruel  blow  on  abed  of 
sickness,  gave  birth  to  a  boy  and  never  rallied. 
Just  before  she  sank  into  unconsciousness,  she 
called  Elsa  to  her  side.  "  Be  all  to  him,"  she 
whispered,  in  tones  that  sank  deep  into  Elsa's 
heart,  but  whether  she  meant  the  baby  in  the 
cradle  or  the  white  haired  man  kneeling  beside 
the  bed  prostrated  by  grief,  Elsa  could  not 
determine. 

The  general  turned  to  Otto  and  leaned  on 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  27 

him,  ignoring  the  other  two.  Indeed,  he 
looked  on  little  Heinrich,  whose  advent  had 
cost  so  dear,  with  aversion,  inasmuch  as  he  was 
the  usurper  of  his  favorite  son's  inheritance, 
since  by  the  family  custom  the  estates  must 
go  to  the  youngest. 

Elsa,  sensitive  and  shy,  was  overcome  with 
awe  of  her  father  and  dared  not  express  her 
longing  to  be  of  comfort  to  him. 

"  I  will  be  all  to  thee,  little  brother,"  she 
whispered,  straining  the  forsaken  boy  to  her 
young  heart,  that  was  longing  for  the  sympathy 
and  love  of  which  death  had  robbed  her,  and 
the  child  hushed  its  sobs  at  the  sound  of  her 
voice  and  welcomed  her  coming  with  smiles. 

"  It  is  well  I  became  a  soldier,"  said  Otto 
half  gayly. 

As  his  tastes  did  not  run  to  farming,  he  did 
not  quarrel  with  the  destiny  that  had  inter 
fered  to  deprive  him  of  an  inheritance,  but  the 
general  looked  at  him  sadly  and  said  nothing. 

Life  went  on  much  as  before  in  the  quiet 
household.  The  general  took  a  housekeeper 
for  his  house  and  a  governess  for  his  daughter. 
The  former  was  a  good  natured  "  Stifts  dame", 


28  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

old  and  fat,  a  distant  relative  of  the  family  who 
was  quite  ready  to  resign  the  dull  and  restricted 
life  of  the  convent  for  the  good  living  offered 
her  at  Rabenhorst. 

The  governess  was  a  pedantic  woman,  the 
daughter  of  a  parson,  whose  fiance,  a  theo 
logical  student,  was  waiting  for  a  parish.  Her 
character  was  as  hard  and  colorless  as  her  face, 
but  she  filled  her  mission  to  the  best  of  her  lim 
ited  capacity.  She  had  no  imagination  ;  indeed, 
she  disapproved  of  imagination  as  an  invention 
of  the  devil,  and  when  Elsa  talked  about  the 
mermaids  that  sang  in  the  storms  at  night, 
Miss  Moller  frowned  and  bade  her  pray  against 
such  wicked  fancies.  Her  rebuke  silenced,  but 
did  not  convince  Elsa. 

At  Rabenhorst  there  was  a  library  of  long 
forgotten  lore  in  the  store-rooms  under  the 
roof,  and  here  Elsa  found  her  theories  con 
firmed  by  authority  superior  to  her  teacher. 
While  Miss  Moller  instructed  her  in  the  rudi 
ments  of  music,  deportment,  needle-work,  and 
the  simpler  branches,  the  little  maid  found 
food  for  her  imagination  in  the  mysteries  of 
the  Nibelungen  and  quaint  old  tales  of  early  his- 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A   VOICE.  29 

tory.  These  stories  dramatically  embellished  she 
repeated  to  the  ever  listening  ear  of  little  Hein- 
rich,  who  took  them  in  with  his  earliest  breath. 
To  these  children  the  howling  of  the  wind 
was  emblematic,  and  the  rustling  of  the  pines 
spirits  whispering  things  unknown  to  mortals. 
Although  Miss  Moller  taught  Elsa's  ringers  to 
move  correctly  over  the  keys,  the  melodies 
brought  forth  were  not  always  those  written 
before  her.  Sometimes  in  the  evening,  by  the 
firelight,  the  old  father  down  in  his  study 
would  hear  wild  harmonies  from  the  great  salle 
above,  ringing  changes  on  some  minor  theme 
for  with  her  mother's  death  the  minor  chord 
had  come  into  Elsa's  life.  Then  he  would 
sigh  and  wish  that  she  were  more  like  her 
mother,  who  was  gentle  and  domestic. 
Soon  little  feet  would  patter  across  the 
floor,  the  music  would  be  lower,  and  any 
one  listening  might  hear  a  childish  voice 
saying,  "  Sister  Elsa,  play  mamma's  song." 
Then  Elsa  would  play  a  low  melody  like 
an  angel's  voice,  lovely  and  tender,  end 
ing  in  a  cadence  sad  and  full  of  longing, 
and  the  nurse  discovering  Heine's  escape, 


30  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

would  break  in  on  the  scene  and  carry  the  tru 
ant  back  to  his  cot  reproaching  "gnadiges 
fraulein  "  for  calling  him  away. 

As  Elsa  grew  older  her  piano  became  more 
and  more  the  recipient  of  her  joy  or  sorrow. 
It  responded  eagerly  to  her  confidences  and 
kept  them  sacred,  but  she  would  always  leave 
it  for  a  gallop  across  country  on  the  swift- 
footed  Wildfeuer,  that  obeyed  his  mistress's 
guiding  hand  by  taking  any  hedge  or  ditch, 
however  high  or  wide.  She  rode  with  her 
father  and  brother  Co  the  hunting  field  in  the 
early  morning,  and  left  them  there,  for  her 
sensitive  nature  shrank  from  pain  inflicted  on 
helpless  animals.  There  had  always  been  the 
ordinary  bond  of  relationship  between  her 
brother  and  herself,  but  nothing  more.  One 
day  an  incident  occurred  to  rouse  the  sympathy 
between  them  that  had  only  been  sleeping, 
but  at  a  terrible  cost  to  Elsa. 

Riding  one  morning  across  the  fields  together, 
they  came  suddenly  upon  a  wide  ditch  which 
Wildfeuer  refused  to  take. 

"  At  it  again,"  cried  Otto.  "  Don't  let  him 
conquer." 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  31 

"Come,  Wildfeuer,"  cried  Elsa,  imperiously, 
urged  by  the  taunt  in  Otto's  tone,  but  the 
horse  refused  again. 

"  He  shall  go,"  shouted  Otto,  the  color 
mounting  angrily  to  his  face,  and  he  struck  the 
animal  a  vicious  blow  with  his  whip. 

Wildfeuer,  unaccustomed  to  such  treat 
ment,  reared,  plunged,  then  dashed  forward 
and  fell  short,  throwing  Elsa  over  his  head. 
She  jumped  up  lightly  and  ran  back  to  the 
horse,  that  lay  struggling  in  the  ditch.  Her 
brother  was  there  before  her.  A  glance  of 
Otto's  practiced  eye  told  him  that  Wildfeuer's 
days  were  over.  Both  his  forelegs  were 
broken.  He  writhed  in  agony,  and  looked 
imploringly  at  his  mistress,  as  though  begging 
her  to  put  him  out  of  pain. 

Elsa  stood  by  as  pale  as  death.  She  knew 
the  inevitable  result. 

"  There  is  no  help  for  him,"  she  said,  half- 
questioning.  She  knew  there  was  none.  Otto 
called  the  groom,  who  was  carrying  his  gun. 

"  I  must  do  it,"  he  cried,  in  a  broken 
voice,  feeling  himself  to  blame, 

He  fired.     A  quiver,  a  straightening   of  the 


32  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

limbs,  and  all  was  still.  Then  Elsa  threw 
herself  down  on  the  sward  near  him,  and  burst 
into  a  passion  of  tears. 

And  when  Otto,  troubled  with  remorse,  for 
she  had  not  reproached  him,  came  to  her  and 
said,  "  We  have  taken  one  of  Wildfeuer's 
hoofs  to  have  mounted  for  you,"  she  thought 
how  often  those  hoofs  had  pawed  the  court 
yard,  impatient  for  her  coming,  and  cried  : 

"  No,  no,  Otto,  I  could  not  bear  it,"  cover 
ing  her  face  with  her  hands.  Then  Otto, 
overcome,  blurted  out  his  regret  for  the 
accident.  She  looked  him  full  in  the  face,  and 
impulsively  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck 
and  clung  to  him.  In  this  embrace  he  recog 
nized  a  new  need  in  this  tall,  fragile  sister  of 
his,  who  had  always  held  aloof  and  appeared 
cold.  The  appeal  in  her  clinging  arms 
touched  his  heart,  and  made  him  realize 
vaguely  that  there  were  depths  in  her  nature 
of  which  he  had  known  nothing.  After 
that  they  were  near  friends.  But  she  never 
spoke  of  Wildfeuer,  and  nothing  could  tempt 
her  to  mount  another  horse,  for  she  was  true 
to  his  memory.  But,  a  greater  trial  was 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  33 

in  store  for  Elsa ;  the  loss  of  this  newly-found 
and  dearly  cherished  brother.  Ulrich,  she  had 
scarcely  known ;  her  mother  had  become  a 
faint,  sweet  memory,  tinged  with  sadness,  but 
Otto  was  a  new  treasure  which  she  had  hardly 
time  to  appreciate,  before  it  fell  from  her  grasp. 
He  was  accidentally  killed  while  hunting,  by  a 
shot  from  his  own  gun.  No  one  knew  how, 
for  his  lifeless  body  was  found  in  the  woods 
by  the  sea. 

When  they  brought  him  home,  the  old  gen 
eral  looked  upon  the  face  of  his  beloved  son 
with  a  smothered  sob,  and  turned  away  with 
out  a  word. 

This  last  blow  seemed  to  crush  him.  He 
shut  himself  in  his  study  and  would  respond 
to  no  one  until  his  daughter,  taking  little  Hein- 
rich  by  the  hand,  went  to  the  door  begging  him 
to  open  it.  Mechanically  he  obeyed  and  the 
wan  and  pallid  face  of  the  old  man  struck  his 
daughter's  heart  with  consternation. 

"  Father,  we  are  all  that  are  left  to  you,"  she 
faltered,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  hear  her.  "  Oh  ! 
father,  are  we  then  nothing?"  she  cried  bit 
terly.  The  intensity  of  her  feeling  overcame 


34  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

the  sensitiveness  and  pride  that  had  always 
silenced  her  in  his  presence.  "  We,  too,  are 
your  children,  and  we  have  no  one  but  you." 

The  old  man  raised  his  head.  Little  Hein- 
rfch  looked  at  him  with  his  mother's  eyes.  He 
had  never  noticed  before  that  the  boy's  eyes 
were  like  his  mother's.  They  seemed  now  to 
bear  a  message  from  heaven. 

"  My  daughter,"  he  said,  "  I  have  sinned  in 
placing  all  my  affection  on  Otto.  God  has  taken 
him  to  rebuke  me,  and  God  forgive  me,  I  will 
live  henceforth  for  you,  my  children."  Then, 
utterly  unmanned,  he  burst  into  sobs,  that 
relieved  the  strain  upon  his  brain. 

This  happened  about  Christmas  time.  The 
ensuing  winter  was  very  dreary,  and  it  required 
all  of  Elsa's  efforts  to  rouse  her  father  from  the 
stupor  into  which  he  had  fallen  after  Otto's 
death.  Thus,  in  thinking  of  him,  shehad  no  time 
for  her  own  sorrow,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
her  experience  she  found  in  her  music  no  relief. 
It  was  the  echo  of  her  grief  sinking  back  upon 
her  heart.  Indeed,  her  only  safeguard  was  in 
silence,  for  the  music  unnerved  her  and  threw 
her  into  wild  outbursts  of  weeping  that  made  her 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  35 

ill.  Often  she  looked  with  a  sigh  at  the  closed 
instrument,  standing  like  a  great  coffin  in  the 
salon.  Sometimes  she  raised  the  lid  to  pass 
her  hand  caressingly  over  the  dumb  keys, 
but  the  cover  would  invariably  fall  again,  for 
the  time  when  she  could  talk  about  her  sorrow, 
even  through  music,  had  not  yet  come. 

Heine  called  for  "  mamma's  song"  in  vain. 
She  could  play  "  mamma's  song"  least  of  all 
in  those  days. 

Elsa  was  almost  alone  in  her  part  of  the  coun 
try,  although  there  were  three  families  within 
visiting  distance  with  whom  the  Rabenhorsts 
had  friendly  intercourse.  They  met  at  rare 
intervals  in  winter,  partly  because  of  the  rough 
traveling  and  partly  because  the  other  families 
often  spent  the  winter  months  at  the  capital.  As 
most  of  the  birthday  fetes  fell  in  summer,  the 
neighbors  were  brought  together  more  fre 
quently  at  that  season. 

On  one  side  their  nearest  neighbors  were  the 
von  Konigsmarks ;  beyond  them  the  estates 
were  owned  by  the  grand  duke  and  worked  by 
inspectors.  On  the  other  side  lived  the  Wald- 
becks,  and  some  two  hours  drive  beyond,  in 


36  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

Schloss  Kartlow,  lived  the  von  Strahls,  distant 
relatives  of  Elsa.  The  latter  family  consisted 
of  three  children  who  were  in  delicate  health 
and  spent  their  winters  and  most  of  their  sum 
mers  traveling  in  milder  climates. 

The  Konigsmarks  visited  Rabenhorst  more 
frequently  than  the  rest,  Frau  von  Konigsmark 
having  been  an  intimate  school  friend  of  Elsa's 
mother.  She  had  three  daughters  and  several 
sons.  The  eldest  child,  who  inherited  the  prop 
erty  by  the  family  custom,  was  a  girl,  not  distin 
guished  in  anyway  except  for  being  an  heiress. 
The  second  daughter,  Theodora,  or  Donna,  as 
she  had  always  called  herself,  was  Elsa's  nearest 
friend.  She  was  twenty-two,  tall,  and  well 
made,  with  dark  hair  and  brilliant  color.  She 
had  a  quick,  energetic  manner,  "  emancipirt  " 
Frau  vonWaklbeck  called  it,  but  every  one  knew 
that  the  Frauleins  von  Waldbeck  were  most 
exemplary  young  ladies  who  rarely  spoke 
above  a  whisper  or  dared  call  their  souls  their 
own. 

Donna  had  been  maid  of  honor  to  the  Prin 
cess  Caroline  for  four  years.  Her  winters  had 
been  spent  at  the  capital  and  her  summers  at 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  37 

fashionable  watering  places,  for  the  princess 
was  an  invalid  and  continually  tried  some  new 
"Kur"  in  the  vain  hope  of  recovering  from  the 
disease  which  at  last  overcame  her.  Two 
months  before  she  had  died  and  left  Donna 
free  to  return  home,  where  she  was  regarded  by 
the  girls  as  a  superior  being  who  had  seen  the 
world.  It  was  a  question  whether  contact  with 
the  world  had  improved  her.  She  had  lost  the 
shyness  which  she  possessed  at  eighteen  and 
gained  a  certain  sharpness  of  repartee  not 
always  agreeable  to  those  who  entered  into  a 
tilt  with  her.  Moreover,  her  independent  ways 
shocked  the  old  fashioned  notions  of  these 
quiet  people  living  in  a  secluded  corner  of 
the  world  and  governed  by  the  strictest  eti 
quette.  She  took  the  government  of  the  family 
into  her  own  hands  on  her  return,  for  her 
mother  was  a  helpless  woman,  who  let  things 
take  care  of  themselves,  while  the  father 
amused  himself  in  hunting  and  riding  over  his 
estates,  careless  of  what  went  on  irudoors. 
Donna  rode  about  the  country  alone,  much  to 
Frau  von  Waldbeck's  disapproval,  which  she 
freely  expressed,  and  when  she  saw  Donna's 


38  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

horse  cantering  almost  daily  in  the  direction  of 
Rabenhorst,  her  criticism  knew  no  bounds. 
How  the  general  could  allow  such  an  intimacy 
passed  her  comprehension.  What  could  that 
stupid  Fraulein  von  Klein,  who  had,  by  the 
way,  been  promoted  to  the  position  of  lady 
companion,  as  well  as  housekeeper,  be  thinking 
of?  The  difference  in  their  ages  was  a  suffi 
cient  objection  to  their  intimacy.  But  she 
exhausted  herself  in  expletives  behind  Donna's 
back,  and  was  sweetness  personified  in  her 
presence,  doubtless  fearing  Donna's  sarcastic 
tongue.  Thus  time  passed,  until  the  first  day 
of  June  brought  Elsa's  fete  day. 

On  the  eve  of  her  eighteenth  birthday,  she 
was  sitting  in  the  grand  salon ;  a  fire  was 
smoldering  on  the  hearth,  and  the  old  Fraulein 
was  nodding  beside  it  in  a  high-backed  chair. 
The  shadows  on  the  wall  danced  furtively  into 
darkened  corners,  up  to  the  nose  of  an  old 
Rabenhorst  of  the  fifteenth  century,  and 
glanced  from  his  armor  to  the  polished  floor. 

Elsa  sat  by  the  window,  spinning;  her 
profile  stood  out  like  a  cameo  against  the 
dark  green  draperies,  and  her  carved  chair,  with 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  39 

the  Rabenhorst  arms  cut  deep  into  the  oak, 
made  a  picturesque  background  for  the  slen 
der  figure  in  its  black  dress  and  puffed 
sleeves. 

The  mahogany  spinning-wheel,  which  had 
belonged  to  her  great-grandmother,  whirred  on 
as  cheerfully  as  though  a  century  had  not 
passed  away,  and  Elsa  spun  her  fancies  into 
the  shuttle — fancies  that  came  from  over  the 
sea  as  in  her  childhood  days. 

"  Oh !  "  cried  the  old  Fraulein,  rousing  her 
self  with  a  .start.  "  If  I  didn't  fall  asleep ! 
Where  is  my  knitting  ?  Ach  !  my  child,  I 
must  indeed  be  growing  old,  since  I  fall  asleep 
so  easily." 

This  remark  called  for  no  comment  from* 
Elsa,  as  she  had  heard  it  constantly  for  the 
past  five  years. 

The  old  lady  adjusted  her  cap,  which  had 
fallen  to  one  side,  smoothed  her  kerchief, 
and  resumed  her  knitting.  Faster  flew  the 
needles,  sharper  was  the  click,  to  make  up  for 
the  time  lost  in  napping. 

"  Fritz  tells  me  that  the  Strahls  have  come 
back." 


40  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"The  Strahls,"  echoed  Elsa  in  surprise,  lift 
ing  her  head  quickly. 

"  Yes,  after  three  years,"  replied  the  old  lady. 
She  was  glad  to  find  a  new  person  to  whom 
she  might  retail  the  news,  as  gossip  was  rare  in 
that  quiet  land.  Elsa  was  silent. 

"  How  are  they?  "  she  said  at  last. 

"  Better,  much  better.  They  will  stay  two 
months  at  home." 

"  Perhaps  they  will  come  to  my  fete  to-mor 
row.  Tante,  how  changed  they  must  be.  Three 
years!  I  am  so  glad  they  have  comeback." 

The  wheel  went  whirring  on. 

"  Three   years,"    murmured    the    old    dame, 
"are  nothing.     Time  passes  so  quickly." 
*    "Three  years,"  murmured  Elsa,  with  a  sigh, 
"  seem  an  eternity.  " 

"Victor  was  Otto's  age,  was  he  not?" 

"  No,  you  are  thinking  of  Carl.  He  died, 
you  know,"  answered  Elsa,  in  a  low  voice. 

"True,  Victor  is  nineteen,  quite  a  man." 
Then  silence  fell  between  them,  and  Elsa's 
thoughts  went  back  to  a  delicate  youth,  with 
brown  eyes,  who  had  played  the  violin  with 
her  one  day,  three  years  before.  She  had  often 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  41 

thought  of  the  tones  of  that  violin.  They  had 
played  Gounod's  "  Ave  Maria".  He  had  since 
been  out  in  the  world,  and  had  probably 
forgotten  her. 

Her  reverie  was  broken  by  the  servant's 
voice  at  her  side. 

"  Gracious  Fraulein,  old  Hans  has  come  again 
to  say  that  Stina  was  taken  bad,  and  calls  for 
the  gracious  Fraulein.  He  begs  pardon,  humbly, 
and  asks  to  speak  with  the  gracious  Fraulein 
himself." 

"  Tell  him  to  wait  below." 

The  servant  bowed  and  disappeared  between 
the  portieres,  and  Elsa  put  aside  the  wheel. 
Stina  was  a  favorite  maid  of  her  mother,  who, 
after  the  death  of  her  mistress,  had  gone  to 
America  to  seek  her  fortune.  She  failed  in 
her  quest  and  came  back  to  her  friends,  ill  with 
consumption,  and  lay  dying  in  her  brother's 
cottage  beyond  the  village. 

Elsa  had  visited  her  constantly  during  the 
last  weeks,  thinking  that  each  day  would  bring 
her  relief  from  her  sufferings. 

"  Hans  has  been  here  before  to-day,"  said 
Fraulein  von  Klein. 


42  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE, 

"Why  was  I  not  told?" 

"  Because  you  fret  yourself  so  about  her," 
she  answered  evasively. 

"  Better  that  I  should  fret  than  she,  Tante," 
exclaimed  Elsa  moving  toward  the  door  lead 
ing  to  her  room.  In  a  few  moments  she 
returned  wrapped  in  a  long  black  mantle  that 
fell  in  graceful  folds  to  her  feet. 

"You  are  not  going  out  at  this  time  of 
night !  "  cried  the  old  lady  in  alarm. 

"  Yes,  it  may  be  the  last  time  for  her.  Don't 
worry,  aunt,  Hans  will  take  care  of  me."  And 
before  Fraiilein  von  Klein  could  protest  further 
Elsa  had  disappeared. 


III. 


LSA'S  fete  day  was  fair  ;  the  sky  cloudless, 
and  the  air  laden  with  the  sweet  smell  of 
new  mown  hay. 

The  salon  was  banked  with  flowers  by  the 
skillful  hand  of  the  gardener.  A  large  table 
laden  with  gifts  and  decorated  with  garlands 
stood  opposite  a  window  overlooking  the  gar 
den  and  facing  the  sea.  On  a  balcony  outside, 
and  visible  through  the  half-parted  portieres,  a 
group  of  girls  was  sitting  absorbed  in  an  ani 
mated  discussion  on  a  most  interesting  topic, 
the  engagement  of  one  of  the  number.  Some 
of  the  girls  were  embroidering,  others  were 
listening  with  rapt  attention  to  the  account 
given  by  the  young  fiancee  of  her  betrothed. 

"  How  did  you  know  that  he  loved  you  ?  " 
asked  Matilda  von  Waldbeck,  a  demure  little 
maid  of  sixteen. 

41  That  was  easily  understood,"  replied   Lita 


44  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

von  Konigsmark,  not  at  all  unwilling  to  satisfy 
her  friend's  curiosity.  "At  the  court  ball  I 
was  standing  in  the  Ancestors'  Hall  ready  to 
go  into  the  ball  room.  He  came  up  and  said 
'  Good  evening '  and  put  his  name  down  on  my 
card  for  three  dances.  Of  course  that  was 
serious." 

"  Of  course,"  echoed  the  group. 

"  Then  later  he  gave  me  a  lozenge  with  '  I  love 
you  '  written  on  it." 

"  And  that  was  decisive,"  added  Donna 
somewhat  sarcastically. 

"  How  romantic  !  "  murmured  Matilda.  She 
had  not  yet  been  confirmed,  and  her  prospec 
tive  romance  seemed  far  distant. 

"  How  material  !"  said  Donna.  "  Lita,  I  am 
afraid  that  he  is  a  gourmet,  since  he  chose  this 
method  of  communicating  his  love." 

"You  are  always  mocking,  Donna,"  answered 
the  fiancee,  twirling  her  engagement  ring  with  a 
satisfied  smile.  "Your  time  will  come." 

It  was  very  agreeable  to  be  the  center  of 
attraction,  for  Lita  von  Konigsmark  had  never 
been  much  noticed  until  this  extraordinary 
event  had  raised  her  to  prominence. 


THE  MA  GIC  OF  A    VOICE.  45 

"  Men  are  not  in  my  line,  especially  society 
men,"  replied  Donna,  as  she  cut  at  a  vine  leaf 
with  her  riding  whip. 

"Oh!  Don't  interrupt  Lita,  let  her  finish," 
exclaimed  Matilda  eagerly.  "  You  have  heard 
all  about  it  before." 

"Scores  of  times,"  answered  Donna. 

"That  is  all,"  said  Lita  in  a  practical  tone. 

"  All !  "  cried  the  girls  in  disappointment. 

"  Of  course  he  went  to  papa  and  settled  the 
matter  satisfactorily." 

"Quite  satisfactorily,  since  Lita  gets  the 
estates  and  he  is  rich,  of  good  family,  and  there 
is  nothing  lacking  except — " 

"Except  what?"  questioned  Lita  com 
posedly. 

Donna  looked  at  her  a  moment  in  silence. 

"You  are  satisfied.  I  am  not  going  to  marry 
him  and  I  won't  enlighten  you." 

"  It  must  be  delightful  to  be  in  love,"  ob 
served  Matilda  reflectively.  She  looked  like  a 
Madonna  with  her  flaxen  hair  smoothed  back 
and  gathered  into  a  tight  knot  behind  her 
head. 

"  Mamma   says  that  love  comes  after  mar- 


46  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

riage,  and  that  it  is  unmaidenly  to  think  of  men 
before,"  remarked  her  sister,  Johanna  von  Wald- 
beck  who  was  three  years  older  and  wore  her 
hair  in  the  same  severe  style.  She  was  sitting 
bolt  upright,  embroidering  a  chair  cushion  of 
medieval  design. 

"Mamma  would  not  like  to  hear  such  a  sen 
timent  from  you.  Sit  up,  Matilda."  Matilda 
thus  admonished  drew  herself  up  and  went 
on  with  her  work.  It  was  the  companion  piece 
to  Johanna's  medieval  cushion. 

"  But  I  mean  it,  Johanna  ;  it  must  be  delight 
ful  to  love  some  one  and  have  him  all  to  your 
self." 

There  was  a  degree  of  fervor  in  Matilda's 
tone  that  shocked  Johanna. 

"  Matilda  !  "  she  exclaimed  in  amazement, 
"  and  you  have  not  been  confirmed  yet !  " 

"  Nor  have  I  been  to  the  court  balls,"  con 
tinued  the  culprit  audaciously,  "nor  do  I  know 
any  thing  about  it,  but  I  have  my  ideas." 

"  Let's  hear  Matilda's  ideas,"  said  Donna. 

"  First,  he  must  be  handsome,  fair  I  think, 
with  a  mustache,  I  don't  think  I  should  like  a 
beard — rich,  of  course,  and — "  she  paused. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  47 

"  Noble,"  added  Johanna,  interested  in  spite 
of  herself  in  this  forbidden  topic. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  Matilda  slowly, 
"  I  never  thought  but  that  he  would  be  noble, 
but  if  I  loved  him  very  much  and  he  was  very 
good,  I  might  waive  that  point,  especially  if  he 
were  an  officer,  for  then  he  could  go  to  court, 
and  so  could  I,  in  my  own  right." 

"Horrible!"  ejaculated  the  prim  Johanna, 
dropping  her  work,  aghast  at  such  opinions. 
"  I  shall  tell  mamma  what  you  say." 

At  this  threat  little   Matilda  changed    color. 

"  I  never  thought  but  that  he  would  be 
noble,"  she  argued  deprecatingly. 

"  Let  Matilda  alone,"  exclaimed  Donna 
suddenly.  She  took  Matilda  under  her  pro 
tection  at  times.  "And  if  you  add  that  he 
must  be  a  man  and  have  brains,  I  don't  see 
why  your  puppet  will  not  do  very  well." 

Johanna  pursed  up  her  lips  in  silence,  and 
resumed  her  work. 

"Where  can  Elsa  be?"  said  Donna.  "  It  is 
getting  late,  and  I  must  go  home." 

"  Elsa  was  called  to  see  old  Hans  beyond 
the  village.  Stina  died  last  night  and  the 


48  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE, 

others  are  going  to  America  in  a  day  or  two. 
His  wife  is  heart-broken  at  Stina's  death." 

This  explanation  was  given  by  Anna  von 
Kb'nigsmark,  who  had  been  with  Elsa  when 
the  humble  message  of  old  Hans  had  been 
delivered. 

"  That  is  like  Elsa,"  said  Johanna.  "  Gone  off 
to  answer  some  peasant's  call,  when  we  have 
come  to  her  fete.  Mamma  says  that  the  peo 
ple  should  learn  to  repress  their  feelings." 

"  But  they  can  not  help  feeling,"  rejoined 
Matilda.  "  They  are  human." 

"  True,  little  one,"  said  Donna,  laying  her 
hand  caressingly  on  her  smooth  braids. 

"  Do  stay,"  pleaded  Matilda. 

"  In  my  habit  ?     I  can  not." 

"  Papa  will  be  angry,"  observed  Lita.  "  I 
suppose  you  are  alone  as  usual,  and  he  can  not 
bear  to  have  you  ride  Selim." 

"  I  shall  get  home  long  before  he  does.  Ah ! 
here  comes  Elsa." 

A  tall,  slender  figure  appeared  in  the  walk 
below.  The  paleness  of  her  face  was  intensified 
by  the  black  dress,  and  the  breeze  blew  her  hair 
in  little  rings  about  her  brow. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  49 

She  looked  up  and  nodded.  Her  face 
lighted  with  a  smile,  as  she  caught  sight  of 
Donna,  and  she  disappeared  quickly  in  the 
entrance  below  to  join  them  a  moment  later  on 
the  balcony. 

"  Here  you  are  at  last,"  exclaimed  Donna, 
rising  from  her  low  seat  by  the  railing.  "  I  have 
been  waiting  half  an  hour.  I  only  ran  over  to 
congratulate  you  and  wish  you  many  happy 
returns.  Meanwhile  the  subject  of  matrimony 
has  been  discussed  in  your  absence." 

"  Donna  and  Matilda  prefer  burghers,"  vol 
unteered  Johanna  with  a  sneer.  "  I  hope  that 
you  do  not  agree  with  them." 

"  Don't  misrepresent,"  said  Donna,  looking 
over  her  shoulder  at  the  speaker. 

"  Donna  did  not  sa'y  that,"  observed  Matilda. 

"And  if  I  did,  what  then?" 

A  change  passed  over  Elsa's  face,  and  she 
said  coldly : 

"A  man  is  not  a  gentleman,  unless  he  is 
noble." 

Donna  laughed. 

"  Noble  sentiment,  that.  Perhaps  you  are 
right.  That  is  what  we  are  educated  to 


50  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

believe  ;  perhaps  I  should  say  that  no  one  is 
regarded  as  an  eligible  match  for  one  of  our 
noble  selves  but  a  nobleman.  But  come,  show 
me  your  table,  Elsa.  I  have  a  trifle  to  add  to 
your  treasures.  Excuse  us  a  moment,  girls, 
and  then  I  must  fly."  Hardly  waiting  for 
their  assent  she  drew  Elsa  into  the  salon  and 
dropped  the  portieres  behind  them. 

"  Let  me  look  at  you,  my  lily  !  "  she  cried, 
clasping  Elsa  in  her  arms,  "  and  wish  you  all 
the  happiness  in  the  world.  You  don't  wonder 
at  my  not  spending  to-day  with  you  ?  I  will 
come  to-morrow  afternoon  and  stay  to  tea  when 
you  are  alone.  I  can't  bear  their  chatter." 
She  pointed  with  her  whip  toward  the  window. 
"  And  I  want  you  all  to  myself." 

Elsa  pressed  her  hand  as  she  placed  her  gift 
on  the  table.  It  was  a  black  velvet  prayer- 
book,  with  a  chalice  and  cross  embroidered  in 
gold  on  the  covers. 

"  I  worked  it  myself,  and  it  gave  me  many 
pricks  in  the  making.  You  know  I  am  not  an 
expert  at  handiwork,  but  it  is  so  easy  to  buy 
things.  There  is  no  one  that  I  would  work  for 
but  you." 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  5 1 

"And  I  shall  value  it  all  the  more,"  returned 
Elsa,  as  she  carefully  examined  the  book. 
"  Indeed  it  is  beautifully  done." 

"  There  is  my  horse  coming  from  the  stable 
and  the  ladies  from  the  garden.  Let  me  run 
before  Frau  von  Waldbeck  gets  sight  of  me. 
I  am  not  in  the  mood  for  her  ladyship's 
raillery.  Good-by,  dear  heart." 

She  swept  her  habit  over  her  arm,  bade  a 
hasty  adieu  to  the  girls  outside,  and  kissed  Elsa 
lightly  on  the  cheek.  Then  the  clatter  of 
Selim's  hoofs  sounded  in  the  court-yard,  out 
into  the  village,  and  was  lost  in  the  distance. 

As  Donna  galloped  out  of  the  gate,  a  group 
of  ladies  appeared  from  the  garden. 

"  Donna  Konigsmark,  as  I  live,"  exclaimed 
Frau  von  Waldbeck,  with  a  nod  of  disapproval. 
"  How  her  parents  can  allow  her  to  fly  around 
the  country  like  any  peasant  girl,  I  can't 
understand.  It  is  bold  and  unladylike.  I 
intend  to  break  up  her  intimacy  with  my 
daughters.  If  my  Johanna  should  develop 
such  tendencies  I  would  shut  her  up  on  bread 
and  water." 

The    likeness    between    Johanna    and     her 


52  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

mother  was  unmistakable.  Frau  von  Waldbeck 
was  a  tall,  erect  woman,  of  fine  carriage.  Her 
forehead  was  prominent  almost  to  severity,  and 
it  was  evident  that  her  daughters  were  dressed 
after  her  own  pattern.  Her  family  feared  her, 
the  world  found  her  intolerable,  and  yet  she 
held  every  one  in  subjection  by  her  domineering 
spirit. 

"  It  is  quite  dreadful,"  answered  Fraulein  von 
Klein,  who  was  walking  with  her. 

"  I  am  surprised  that  you  permit  Donna's 
intimacy  with  Elsa,"  continued  Frau  von  Wald 
beck,  in  a  low  voice,  fearing  that  Donna's 
mother,  who  was  walking  behind  with  the  gen 
eral,  might  overhear  her  remarks. 

They  entered  the  lower  hall,  and  were  joined 
by  two  gentlemen. 

"  Excuse  us,"  said  one,  "  we  are  late,  but  we 
had  good  luck." 

"  That  is  fine,"  remarked  the  general. 
"Ladies,  we  will  join  you  directly." 

The  three  gentlemen  turned  into  the  gen 
eral's  smoking-room  on  the  ground  floor,  while 
the  ladies  ascended  the  staircase  to  the  salon. 
The  girls  had  come  in  from  the  balcony  and 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE,  53 

were  seated  by  the  fire,  but  they  rose  and 
remained  standing  when  the  ladies  appeared. 
Johanna  and  Matilda  advanced  towards  Frau 
von  Konigsmark,  who  had  been  in  the  garden 
when  they  arrived,  and  courtesied. 

"  Kiss  the  hand,  Matilda,"  commanded  Frau 
von  Waldbeck,  sharply.  She  obeyed,  and  with 
a  forced  smile,  withdrew  to  the  other  side  of  the 
room  to  join  the  other  girls. 

"  That  child  gives  me  so  much  trouble," 
remarked  her  mother  in  alow  tone  to  Frau  von 
Konigsmark.  "  She  hasn't  the  grace  of  your 
Donna.  There  is  a  spirit  of  insubordination 
about  her  that  I  find  difficult  to  subdue." 

"  I  never  could  do  any  thing  with  my  chil 
dren,"  observed  Donna's  mother  complacently. 
"  I  never  tried.  They  are  badly  managed,  but 
I  can't  help  it.  It  is  much  better  not  to 
worry " 

At  this  moment  the  gentlemen  joined  them, 
and  supper  was  announced. 

The  general  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table, 
while  Elsa  made  tea  behind  a  great  silver  urn 
at  the  foot.  There  were  plates  of  sandwiches 
of  various  kinds,  thin  pieces  of  black  bread 


54  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

with  bits  of  sausage,  boiled  eggs,  cheese  or  sar 
dines  laid  on  them.  Beer  and  wine  were  served 
to  the  gentlemen. 

Rothe  Griitze,  of  a  rich  red  color,  as  implied 
by  its  name,  was  served  in  soup  plates  and 
eaten  with  sugar  and  cream.  Krammets  vogel 
• — delicious  little  birds  roasted — were  brought 
on  hot. 

"  Krammets  vogel,  at  this  season  of  the  year  ! 
This  is  indeed  a  treat  !  "  exclaimed  Herr  von 
Konigsmark,  as  he  helped  himself  bountifully. 

"  I  shall  be  sorry  when  the  Krammets  vogel 
time  begins,"  said  Elsa  behind  her  urn.  "  It  is 
cruel  to  trap  them  so." 

"  Nonsense  ! '''  returned  the  general,  laughing. 
"  You  eat  them  with  relish." 

"  I  understand  that  they  are  trying  to  pass  a 
law  forbidding  the  wholesale  slaughter  of  these 
birds.  They  are  dying  out,"  remarked  Herr  von 
Konigsmark. 

"Think  of  enticing  the  poor  little  things  to 
their  death  with  bright  red  berries.  I  hope 
they  will  pass  the  law,"  cried  Elsa  vehemently. 

"  I  hear  that  the  Strahls  are  back  again,"  ob 
served  Herr  von  Waldbeck.  "  But  only  for  a 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  55 

short   time.     The  children  go  back  to  Italy  in 
the  autumn." 

"  Why  don't  they  stay  here  ?  "  exclaimed  Herr 
von  Konigsmark,  emptying  his  glass  of  beer  at 
a  draught.  "  What  they  need  is  bracing  air. 
I,  myself,  should  get  consumption  in  those 
southern  climates.  All  nonsense,  women's 
whims." 

"  Now  you  can  not  say  that  I  have  whims," 
observed  his  wife,  smiling  amiably.  "  I  have 
always  been  robust." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  you  have  them,"  laugh 
ingly  ejaculated  the  broad  shouldered  master. 
"They  would  be  settled  in  short  order." 

"I  suppose  we  shall  see  the  Strahls  in  church 
to-morrow,"  whispered  Matilda  under  her 
breath  to  Elsa.  "  Won't  it  be  nice?  " 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  we  should  not  hear 
your  voice,  Matilda^  if  you  have  any  thing  to 
say  worth  hearing." 

"  No,  mamma." 

Johanna,  conscious  of  the  mother's  approval, 
sat  painfully  erect.  She  was  her  mother's 
favorite  and  echo. 

They  rose  from  the  table  with  the  customary 


56  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

salutation  of  "  gesegnete  mahlzeit !"  and  went  up 
to  the  salon.  The  fire  was  burning  brightly  on 
the  hearth.  Conversation  became  general,  the 
men  talking  of  the  hunt,  the  ladies  of  each  other 
and  of  their  common  interests.  Lita  was  stand 
ing  by  a  table  a  little  apart  looking  at  some  pho 
tographs.  Herr  von  Waldbeck  approached  her. 

"  So  you  are  really  happy  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  low 
tone. 

"Yes,"  she  replied. 

"Always  be  amiable,  my  child.  With  ami 
ability  one  can  do  any  thing  with  a  man.  Any 
thing  !  "  he  repeated  and  sighed.  "  Yes,  those 
are  good  pictures  of  Venice.  I  was  there  once, 
years  ago,"  he  added  in  a  low  tone.  His  wife 
was  looking  at  him. 

"  Leo,  order  the  carriage.     It  is  ten  o'clock." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  he  replied  in  the  tone 
of  a  man  whose  spirit  had  long  since  been 
broken. 

The  Waldbeck  and  Kbnigsmark  carriages 
were  announced  at  the  same  time,  and  the  ladies 
went  into  Elsa'sroomto  put  on  their  wraps.  As 
they  came  out  Lita  stopped  beside  the  spinning 
wheel  and  idly  turned  it. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  57 

"  Is  it  true,"  she  asked,  "  that  you  spun  enough 
last  winter  to  make  a  table  cloth  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Elsa. 

"  It  is  getting  to  be  quite  the  fashion  now-a- 
days.  I  have  an  old  wheel  in  the  garret  that 
belonged  to  my  grandmother.  I  think  I  shall 
get  it  down  for  Lita,"  said  her  mother. 

"  It  spoils  the  hands,"  objected  Frau  von 
Waldbeck,  gazing  admiringly  at  her  own 
shapely  hands. 

"  It  has  not  spoiled  Elsa's  hands,"  said  Ma 
tilda.  Her  mother  looked  at  her  reprovingly. 

"  How  do  you  find  time  ?  "  asked  Lita. 

"  You  forget  the  long  winter  evenings  here.  I 
live  so  far  from  you  all  and  see  you  so  seldom. 
Spinning  occupies  the  fingers  and  leaves  the 
thoughts  free." 

"  Too  much  thinking  is  not  good  for  young 
girls,"  observed  Frau  von  Waldbeck  senten- 
tiously. 

"  Oh,  Elsa  does  not  think  much,"  said  the 
old  Stifts  dame  with  emphasis. 

They  all  laughed  at  this  speech,  and  went 
down-stairs  to  the  portico,  where  the  carriages 
were  waiting.  The  general  kissed  the  ladies' 


5  8  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

hands  courteously,  and  assisted  them  into  their 
carriages.  The  horses  trotted  over  the  pave 
ment  and  disappeared  through  the  gate. 

The  general  and  Fraulein  von  Klein  went  into 
the  house,  but  Elsa  lingered,  looking  after  the 
departed  guests. 

"Come,  my  child."  The  words  roused  her. 
"  Now  I  think  I'll  smoke  a  pipe  and  go  to  bed," 
added  the  old  man,  smothering  a  yawn. 

"  Yes,  papa,"  answered  Elsa  absently.  She 
took  a  candle  from  the  table  and  waited  to 
receive  the  paternal  kiss  upon  her  brow. 

"Good-night,  papa." 

"  God  bless  you,  my  child." 

As  she  ascended  the  staircase  her  steps  echoed 
through  the  bare  hall,  and  she  went  through 
the  salon,  where  the  fire  was  burning  low,  to 
her  bedroom  beyond. 

There,  seated  on  a  broad  window-sill,  she 
looked  out  at  the  sea  and  listened  to  its  monot 
onous  beating  against  the  shore.  She  was  lost 
in  dreaming  of  some  one  who  might  come  to 
her  from  over  the  sea — a  lover  who  should  be 
a  prodigy  of  strength,  wisdom,  goodness  and 
beauty.  Her  ideal  was  formed  from  tales  of 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  59 

gallant  knights  and  impossible  men  of  romance, 
for  in  the  restricted  formal  intercourse  allowed 
in  their  circle,  rigid  in  its  forms  of  etiquette, 
she  had  as  yet  never  seen  a  man  who  could 
touch  her  imagination  or  fancy. 


IV. 


GENERAL  VON  RABENHORST,  though 
not  an  irreligious  man,  rarely  showed  him 
self  in  the  village  church.  He  disliked  the 
confinement  of  a  long  service.  Twice  a  year, 
at  Easter  and  at  Christmas,  he  went,  as  an  ex 
ample  to  his  people,  but  the  rest  of  the  year  he 
was  quite  satisfied  to  be  represented  by  his 
daughter  and  her  companion. 

The  day  after  Elsa's  fete  was  Sunday.  Elsa 
came  down  ready  for  church  and  found  Frau- 
lein  von  Klein  waiting,  prayer-book  in  hand. 
She  was  attired  in  an  ancient  pelisse  that  had 
done  duty  and  been  laid  away  some  twenty 
years  before,  but  recently  she  had  renovated  it 
to  suit  the  new  style.  Her  simple  black 
bonnet  set  off  the  bands  of  silver  hair  and  the 
complacent  old  face.  Old  Karl,  the  gardener, 
came  forward  with  a  large  paper  box  in  his 
hands,  and  doffed  his  cap  as  he  lifted  the  cover. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  61 

A  beautiful  cross  of  white  roses  lay  within,  and 
he  waited  for  a  word  of  approbation  from  his 
young  mistress.  She  looked  at  the  cross  silently, 
and  then  turning  to  the  expectant  old  man  said 
softly,  "  It  could  not  have  been  better,  Karl." 

A  smile  lighted  his  hardy  face  as  he  rever 
ently  replaced  the  cover  and  laid  the  box  under 
the  seat. 

They  drove  through  the  sweet  June  morning 
each  wrapped  in  her  own  thoughts.  Fraulein 
von  Klein  was  occupied  with  very  practical  mat 
ters,  and  Elsa  with  that  not  far  distant  past  when 
Otto  shared  her  life ;  memories  evoked  by  the 
cross  woven  to  decorate  his  grave.  Her  eyes 
scanned  the  fields  of  waving  wheat,  brilliant 
with  corn  flowers  that  sprang  up  in  wild  profu 
sion,  bare  and  brown  eight  months  before  when 
Wildfeuer  had  taken  the  leap  to  meet  his 
death.  She  closed  her  eyes  and  shuddered. 
Time  had  not  yet  healed  the  wound  made  by 
death  nor  blunted  the  sharpness  of  memory. 

The  carriage  drove  rapidly  over  the  dusty  road, 
covering  the  peasant  who  plodded  in  its  wake 
with  clouds  of  sand.  There  would  be  a  goodly 
attendance  at  church  to-day,  for  Pastor  Mu'ller 


62  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

had  gone  to  visit  distant  relatives  and  would 
be  replaced  by  a  more  stirring  and  eloquent 
brother  who,  it  was  to  be  hoped,  would  overcome 
the  somnolent  tendencies  of  certain  prominent 
members  of  the  congregation.  Elsa  was  not 
drawn  thither  by  anticipations  of  brilliant 
preaching.  She  went  more  from  habit,  because 
it  broke  the  monotony  of  her  week  at  home, 
than  from  any  sense  of  religious  need.  There 
was  nothing  awe-inspiring  in  her  pastor,  and  she 
knew  by  experience  that  his  brethren  were  like 
him  with  slight  difference  of  methods. 

Many  words  of  well  deserved  reproof  might 
be  directed  at  those  seated  in  the  high  seats,  but 
the  average  pastor  had  not  the  moral  courage 
to  utter  them.  Indeed,  such  presumption 
would  cost  him  his  living  and  rob  his  children 
even  of  the  pittance  he  earned  by  moderation. 
His  wife  kissed  my  lady's  hand  when  she  with 
the  doctor's  wife  was  summoned  to  afternoon 
coffee  at  the  castle,  and  they  were  both  received 
with  the  condescension  which  marked  the  great 
gulf  dividing  the  castle  and  the  parsonage. 

The  Mecklenburger  went  to  church  as  an 
example  to  his  people  and  a  duty  to  his  Maker. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE V  63 

The  sins  of  his  commission  concerned  not  the 
preacher.  He  himself  stood  much  nearer  to 
God  than  his  priest,  and  accepted  no  dictation 
from  his  inferior.  He  wished  no  words  of  scath 
ing  rebuke  to  disturb  his  gentle  slumber  behind 
the  curtains  of  his  pew,  for  this  napping  was  a 
privilege  peculiarly  his  own  which  he  exercised 
freely.  So  Pastor  Mu'ller  took  refuge  in  gener 
alities  and  preached  at  the  stolid  peasant  seated 
below  and  staring  agape  at  him  in  the  pulpit. 
He  exhorted  obedience  to  divine  command  in 
the  language  of  the  old  school,  and  painted 
vivid  and  fiery  punishment  for  delinquents. 
His  God  was  full  of  wrath  and  vengeance  to 
inspire  only  fear.  It  required  strong  metaphor 
to  quicken  the  imagination  of  the  stolid  people 
listening  to  him.  His  sermons,  taken  often 
from  old  text  books  written  a  century  before, 
might  have  been  words  of  fire  in  the  mouth  of 
eloquence,  but  in  Pastor  Miiller's  delivery  the 
roaring  of  the  lion  became  as  the  bleating  of 
the  lamb. 

There  had  been  a  time  when  Elsa  had  listened 
to  his  exhortations  with  breathless  attention, 
when  the  stereotyped  phrases  falling  from  his 


64  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

lips  had  sunk  deep  into  her  heart  and  gained 
life  through  her  interpretation.  The  man  who 
had  taken  vows  to  follow  God  and  lead  his  peo 
ple  to  repentance  and  truth,  had  seemed  noble, 
strong,  and  a  fit  guide  for  one  as  erring  and  fee 
ble  as  she.  She  had  glowed  with  enthusiasm 
and  pored  over  tales  of  the  crusades  and  early 
martyrs.  Those  glorious  days  of  self-sacrifice  ! 
When  the  time  drew  near  for  her  first  com 
munion  she  came  to  Pastor  Mu'ller  for  instruc 
tion,  and  he  answered  her  fervent  queries  by 
platitudes  ;  her  enthusiasm  was  chilled  by  his 
indifference  and  incapacity  of  comprehension. 
He  was  not  the  man  to  cope  with  her  nature, 
and  was  confused  by  it.  She  quickly  measured 
his  shallowness,  and  for  a  time  the  church  stifled 
her.  It  was  too  narrow  for  her  aspirations. 
Prayer  was  too  deep  for  utterance.  Words 
trammeled  her  and  brought  her  down  to  earth. 
She  panted  with  a  great  desire  to  serve  God,  who 
had  sacrificed  Himself  for  the  good  of  the  world. 
"  What  shall  I  do,  oh  God,  to  be  worthy ! " 
she  cried  aloud  to  the  raging  elements,  but  the 
winds  echoed  back  her  passionate  cry  unan 
swered.  She  sought  consolation  in  stormy 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  65 

music,  that  relieved  her  heart  of  its  burden.  She 
stood  on  a  mountain  height  and  looked  down 
into  the  still  valley.  Silence  reigned.  A  calm 
stole  over  her.  She  was  in  the  boundless  pres 
ence  of  God,  and  felt  his  omnipotence,  and  her 
soul  could  soar  unfettered  on  the  wings  of 
prayer  to  heaven.  All  of  nature's  boundless 
realm  was  not  too  wide  a  church  for  her. 

Two  years  had  passed  since  then.  Two 
stormy  years,  but  now  the  church  walls  no 
longer  shut  her  in.  She  took  pleasure  in  the 
simple  devotion  of  the  people  in  the  body 
of  the  church.  Their  voices,  though  not  always 
true,  were  lifted  in  earnest  praise,  and  they  wor 
shiped  according  to  their  light.  The  days  of 
heroism  were  past. 

Donna  had  helped  her  to  this.  Donna,  who 
had  known  the  world,  and  though  harsh  and 
sarcastic  to  others,  had  never  tired  of  her  ques 
tioning.  Donna,  who  had  taught  her  rebellious 
heart  to  suffer  and  be  strong.  She  thought  of 
all  these  things  as  she  drove  through  the  wheat 
fields  into  the  little  hamlet  that  surrounded  the 
church. 

The  bell  was  tolling  its  last  tones  as  they 


66  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

passed  through  the  turnstile  and  walked  up  the 
narrow  path  to  the  side  door.  It  was  an  old 
church,  built  some  centuries  back,  severe  in  its 
simple  architecture.  After  entering  the  low 
door,  they  turned  to  the  left  and  ascended  a 
small  wooden  staircase.  The  footman  who  had 
preceded  them  unlocked  a  door  in  the  wall  at 
the  top  of  the  staircase  and  stepped  back  so 
that  they  might  pass  into  the  pew. 

The  pew  was  in  the  chancel  at  the  right  of 
the  altar  and  on  a  level  with  the  gallery.  It 
was  inclosed  with  glass  sliding  windows,  which 
were  hung  with  green  silk  curtains.  A  row  of 
Gothic  chairs  with  old-fashioned  embroidered 
covers  stood  against  the  wall,  and  in  front  of 
each  chair  was  placed  a  foot-stool  similarly  em 
broidered.  The  pew  commanded  a  view  of  the 
church  and  the  side  window  overlooked  the 
pulpit.  Indeed,  the  general,  by  stretching  out 
his  hand,  might  check  his  spiritual  guide  at  any 
unpleasant  point  of  his  sermon. 

The  church  had  been  recently  restored,  its 
dingy  walls  whitewashed,  and  the  pews  in  the 
body  of  the  church  replaced  by  new  and  com 
fortable  seats  of  natural  wood.  The  arch  above 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  67 

the  altar  was  surmounted  by  stiff,  quaint  wooden 
figures  representing  Mary  weeping  at  the  feet 
of  the  crucified  Saviour.  She  pressed  a  wooden 
handkerchief  of  a  somewhat  dingy  hue  to  her 
scarce  visible  eyes,  and  gazed  aimlessly  at  some 
angels  on  the  other  side  of  the  crucifix.  These 
figures  had  been  left  by  the  renovator  as  relics 
of  a  past  century,  as  were  the  white  cherub 
heads  with  golden  wings  that  encircled  the 
pulpit.  The  altar  was  covered  with  a  magnifi 
cent  black  cloth,  embroidered  thickly  with  de 
vices  in  gold,  a  gift  from  Frau  von  Waldbeck  at 
the  time  of  Johanna's  first  communion.  The 
four  pews  of  the  neighboring  families  were  in 
the  chancel  facing  the  altar,  two  on  each  side, 
one  above  the  other.  Each  was  painted  with 
the  family  arms  on  the  front  panel.  Opposite 
the  Rabenhorsts  on  the  upper  tier  was  the  great 
pew  representing  the  grand  duke's  estates,  gen 
erally  empty,  as  the  inspector  in  charge  rarely 
attended  the  village  church.  Below  it  was  the 
Strahl  pew,  and  opposite  this  and  underneath 
the  Rabenhorsts'  that  occupied  by  the  Konigs- 
marks. 

As  Elsa  stepped  forward  and  drew  back  the 


68  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

curtains  she  saw  that  the  services  had  already 
begun,  for  the  people  were  standing  and  the 
pastor's  droning  voice  reached  her  ear  indis 
tinctly.  It  was  even  less  musical  than  the  nasal 
tone  of  Pastor  Miiller.  Fraulein  von  Klein 
stretched  her  neck  eagerly  to  look  at  the  new 
comer,  and  then  settled  herself  comfortably  in 
one  of  the  Gothic  chairs.  Elsa'seyes  wandered 
over  the  heads  of  the  congregation.  There  were 
the  different  inspectors  in  the  front  seats, 
behind  them  the  upper  house  servants, 
and  last  the  field  laborers  with  their  heads 
streaked  by  the  sun  and  their  tanned  faces 
turned  toward  the  pastor  with  the  same  dull 
expression  they  had  worn  every  Sunday  since 
she  could  remember.  They  were  just  begin 
ning  a  hymn,  "  Eine  feste  Burg  ist  unser  Gott". 
It  rang  out  with  a  good  will ;  the  boy 
pumped  the  organ  energetically,  and  a  strong 
chorus  resounded  through  the  bare  structure, 
making  the  rafters  ring.  The  sun  straggled  in 
through  the  Gothic  windows  and  danced  in 
the  dark  corner  of  the  Rabenhorst  pew.  As 
Elsa  drew  the  curtain  to  shut  out  the  glare,  the 
Strahl  pew  was  brought  into  view.  They  were 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  69 

all  there.  All  that  were  left,  alas,  for  the 
family  had  dwindled  sadly  in  recent  years. 
Frau  von  Althaus,  a  fine  looking  woman  of 
forty,  with  dark  hair.  The  two  girls,  Sophie 
and  Berthe,  with  their  hair  cut  short  in  the 
new  English  fashion.  Victor,  of  whom  she  had 
thought  with  a  touch  of  tender  reminiscence. 
He  was  unchanged  except  for  a  light  brown 
mustache,  a  ruddier  glow  in  his  thin  cheeks, 
and  a  more  erect  carriage.  That  was  all. 

No !  who  is  that  dark  man,  with  close  cut 
hair  curling  crisply  around  his  open  brow,  his 
head  held  high  and  free,  with  an  eye  like  a 
falcon,  and  a  glance  keen  and  level  as  though 
he  might  conquer  the  world  ?  He  is  a  stranger 
and  he  might  be  a  prince,  he  holds  himself  so 
proudly,  like  her  hero  Siegfried  or  some  Vi 
king  of  old.  She  looks  at  him  in  silence  and 
forgets  to  sing.  He  seems  the  personification 
of  all  her  heroes  in  one.  A  feeling  of  awe 
steals  over  her,  a  conviction  that  this  man  is  of 
a  sublimer,  grander  mold  than  any  who  has 
yet  crossed  her  path.  His  perfect  Greek  face 
is  the  ideal  of  beauty,  and  must  reflect  the 
graces  of  mind  and  character  fitted  to  her 


70  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

heroes.  The  color  slowly  steals  into  her  cheek, 
robbing  it  of  its  customary  paleness;  her  eyes 
darken  and  glow  beneath  the  half  closed  lids ; 
her  heart  is  in  a  tumult. 

And  this  stranger  sees  a  tall  maiden  with  won 
derful  delicacy  of  form  and  feature  ;  the  sunlight 
plays  in  her  waving  hair,  lighting  it  with  gold  ; 
the  curve  of  the  disdainful  mouth,  the  droop  of 
the  proud  white  lids,  the  poise  of  the  figure, 
all  bespeak  the  aristocrat,  and  Leopold 
Uhlheim  measures  her  coldly  as  one  of  a 
class  most  antagonistic  to  him. 

"  Eine  feste  Burg  ist  unser  Gott,"  shout 
the  peasants  again,  and  Elsa  is  recalled  to 
herself  by  the  overwhelming  force  of  the 
sound. 

Church  had  been  dismissed.  The  congrega 
tion  streamed  out  in  silence.  There  had  been 
some  handshaking  at  the  door  and  exchange 
of  whispered  words  between  the  young  people, 
as  loud  speaking  within  the  church  walls  was  a 
breach  of  etiquette  most  severely  punished  by 
the  heads.  Lita  von  Konigsmark  made  signs 
to  attract  Elsa's  attention,  but  she  did  not 
seem  to  understand.  The  Strahls  were  waiting 


THE  At  AGIO  OF  A    VOICE.  71 

at  the  gate  while  the  stranger  walked  on  with 
Frau  von  Althaus. 

"You  will  come  to  us  day  after  to-morrow, 
Elsa?"  said  Berthe  Strahl,  after  the  first  greet 
ing  was  over.  "  We  could  not  come  to  your 
fete.  I  was  so  sorry,  but  we  shall  make  up 
for  lost  time,  as  we  shall  stay  here  all  summer." 

"  Short  enough,"  remarked  Victor,  who  had 
joined  them  and  shaken  hands  with  Elsa  after 
the  English  fashion.  "  Even  that  is  grudged 
us  by  old  Schultz,  who  says  the  climate  is  too 
severe." 

"  How  could  our  lovely  native  air  hurt  any 
one  ?  "  returned  Elsa,  gayly.  "  You  look  well." 

"  You  have  cut  your  hair !  "  exclaimed 
Johanna.  "  How  did  you  have  the  courage?" 

"  It  is  very  chic.  Mamma  won't  let  me  cut 
mine  nor  wear  a  bang,"  said  Matilda,  with  a 
comical  sigh.  "  I  should  love  to  wear  a 
bang." 

"  Don't,  they  are  horrid.  You  look  much 
better  as  you  are,  Matilda,"  rejoined  Victor, 
gallantly. 

"  What  talk  is  this  for  Sunday  ?  "  The  stern 
voice  scattered  the  group.  "  You  should  have 


72  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

more  serious  thoughts  on  coming  out  of  church, 
my  children." 

"Yes,  mamma,"  answered  Johanna,  casting 
down  her  eyes  demurely. 

"  Yes,  mamma,"  echoed  Matilda,  gazing  up 
appealingly  at  her  mother's  cold  face. 

The  various  carriages  had  driven  up.  They 
lingered  no  longer,  but  separated  with  hurried 
partings.  The  Strahls  reminded  Elsa  of  her 
promised  visit,  and  then  got  into  the  high 
beach  wagon  waiting  for  them,  while  the 
stranger  stood  beside  the  open  door  and  talked 
to  their  aunt  inside.  She  nodded  to  Elsa  from 
the  distance,  and  the  gentlemen  lifted  their 
hats  as  they  drove  away. 

"  I  did  not  learn  who  he  was,"  said  Fraulein 
von  Klein,  "though  I  inquired.  It  is  the  first 
time  he  has  appeared  with  them,  and  Frau  von 
Althaus  is  very  reticent.  Frau  von  Konigsmark 
seemed  to  think  that  he  was  Herr  von  Mecklin, 
Victor's  new  guardian,  but  as  I  remember  the 
old  baron,  who  must  be  this  one's  father,  there 
is  little  resemblance  between  them.  He  was 
small,  slight  and  insignificant.  Then,  du  liebcr 
Gott !  the  Frau  von  Konigsmark  is  always 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  73 

wrong  in  her  theories,  and  a  great  gossip. 
Why,  what  she  had  to  say  about  the  poor 
princess's  illness  the  other  day  was  positively 
scandalous.  Elsa,  I  say,  you  are  not  listening 
to  one  word  I  have  been  saying." 

"  You  said  something  was  scandalous,  Tante, 
and  I  am  very  sorry,  for  scandal  is  a  pest." 

"  You  take  one's  breath  away  with  your 
extravagant  expressions.  That  comes  from 
associating  with  Donna  who,  as  Frau  von 
Waldbeck  says " 

"  Don't,  Tante  !  "  interrupted  Elsa,  plead 
ingly. 

"  Well,  I  am  sure  I  never  talk  scandal." 

"  Hush,  here  we  are  !  " 

They  stopped  before  a  high  iron  gate  which 
barred  the  entrance  to  the  cemetery.  Elsa  got 
out  of  the  carriage  and  took  the  cross  in  her 
hand.  As  she  passed  in  alone  up  the  gravel 
walk  the  birds  were  caroling  joyously,  and  the 
air  was  filled  with  the  fragrance  of  flowers.  At 
the  head  of  the  avenue  an  iron  railing  shut  in  a 
grassy  inclosure,  in  the  midst  of  which  stood  a 
great  granite  rock  with  the  Rabenhorst  arms 
roughly  hewn  in  bold  relief  upon  it.  It  was  a 


74  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

curious  idea  of  the  former  owner,  for  the 
cemetery  was  new  and  in  it  were  buried  those 
only  of  the  present  generation.  The  others  lay 
under  the  stones  of  the  church  or  in  the  old 
graveyard  surrounding  it.  She  placed  the 
cross  against  the  white  headstone  of  her 
brother's  grave,  picked  a  few  roses  from  a  bush 
in  full  bloom,  and  leaned  against  the  willow  that 
shaded  it.  How  still  and  peaceful  it  seemed! 
She  had  often  envied  him  the  calmness  of  his 
repose.  To-day  her  heart  did  not  droop  with 
sadness,  it  beat  with  renewed  life.  Why  was 
this  change  ?  Why  was  her  life  brighter?  For 
the  first  time  since  Otto  died,  the  singing  of 
the  birds  awoke  an  echo  in  her  heart  and  the 
sweet  air  of  heaven  stirred  her  soul. 


V. 


QCHLOSS  KARTLOW  was  built  thirty-five 
O  years  ago,  after  a  style  very  different  from 
its  neighbors,  in  brick  with  stucco  facing.  It 
was  an  imposing  structure  as  seen  from  the 
highway  half  a  mile  away,  set  in  a  background 
of  dark  foliage  with  the  blue  and  white  flag 
flying  boldly  from  its  highest  tower.  The  old 
castle  had  been  destroyed  by  fire  years  before, 
and  its  ruins  were  still  shown  to  curious  visit 
ors.  The  approach  was  through  a  long  avenue 
of  poplars,  which  narrowed  into  a  village  street 
just  before  sweeping  round  the  circle  in  front 
of  the  house.  On  one  side  of  this  street  was  a 
row  of  neat  brick  cottages  with  slightly  slop 
ing  tile  roofs.  Geraniums  stood  in  the  small- 
paned  windows,  and  children  with  streaked 
blonde  heads  were  wont  to  peer  curiously  out 
at  the  passer  by. 

These  houses  were   occupied   by   the   head 
gardener,  coachman  and  butler   of   the   estab- 


7<5  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

lishment.  Opposite  were  buildings  of  an 
earlier  date  with  whitewashed  walls  and  low 
thatched  roofs,  moss-grown  with  age. 

Through  the  wide  door,  which  was  gen 
erally  swung  back  from  one  of  these  cabins, 
the  fire-place  might  be  seen  piled  with  burning 
peat.  A  kettle  hung  over  it  on  a  hook,  and 
the  smoke  curled  up  on  the  ledge  and  found 
its  way  out  through  the  peaked  roof — smoking, 
in  its  passage,  hams  and  bacon  in  the  rafters. 
An  old  dame  sat  in  the  inner  room  by  the  win 
dow  behind  a  bed,  piled  high  with  feather  com 
forters,  and  stitched  on  her  good  man's  Sunday 
coat.  She  rocked  a  cradle  with  her  foot  and 
crooned  a  quaint  melody  to  the  sleeping  child. 

Against  the  wall  stood  two  chests  with  brass 
handles,  which  contained  the  dower  of  linen 
that  she  had  brought  her  husband  half  a  cen 
tury  ago.  An  old  fashioned  clock  ticked  the 
hours  as  it  had  for  generations  gone  by.  Fur 
ther  up  the  street,  just  below  the  cabins, 
was  the  dairy,  a  neat  brick  building  in  the 
same  style  as  the  cottages.  Before  it  stood  a 
horse  pensively  switching  away  the  flies.  He 
was  harnessed  to  a  long  pole  supported  on 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  77 

wheels,  from  either  side  of  which  depended  a 
dozen  empty  milk  buckets.  The  maids  were 
straying  toward  the  inclosure,  where  the  cows 
lowed  impatient  at  their  delay.  A  troop  of 
girls  was  coming  from  the  hay  fields  with 
rakes  over  their  shoulders,  white  straw  bonnets 
trimmed  with  red  upon  their  heads,  and  their 
skirts  tucked  up  to  show  a  good  stretch  of 
white  stocking,  and  an  ungainly  wooden  shoe. 
Behind  them  walked  a  shepherd  followed  by 
his  flock  of  bleating  sheep,  huddled  close 
together  and  driven  by  the  vigilant  sheep-dog 
behind.  Every  thing  was  moving  toward 
home  as  the  hour  of  rest  drew  near.  Just 
before  reaching  the  castle  they  turned  into 
a  lane  toward  the  great  thatched  outhouses 
which  were  shut  out  of  sight  by  a  high 
hedge. 

The  sun  was  shining  aslant  on  the  red  tower 
of  Kartlow,  and  lighted  the  dial  of  the  clock. 
It  lacked  five  minutes  to  six.  The  windows 
were  open,  but  there  was  no  one  to  be  seen. 
The  hall  door  was  ajar.  A  green  vine  ran  up 
either  side  of  the  porch  and  met  overhead,  twin 
ing  around  the  arms  of  Strahl  and  Althaus, 


78  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

which  were  cut  deep  in  the  stone  shield  over 
the  entrance. 

The  floor  of  the  hall  was  of  black  and  white 
marble.  Three  doors  opened  from  it,  the  right 
leading  to  the  dining-room,  the  left  to  the 
staircase,  and  the  one  in  front  to  the  red 
room  overlooking  the  park.  The  dining-room 
was  wainscoted  in  oak,  the  furniture  was  of 
oak,  elaborately  carved,  and  above  the  side 
board  on  the  wall  the  family  arms  were  painted 
in  brilliant  colors.  The  walls  were  hung  with 
family  portraits.  Here  was  one  lady  in  a  blue 
satin  Watteau  dress,  with  powdered  hair,  who, 
tradition  said,  was  wont  to  wash  her  fair  face 
in  the  morning  dew.  Above  her  hung  the  pic 
ture  of  a  haughty  beauty  who  had  been  allied 
to  the  grand  dukes  in  times  forgotten.  Beyond, 
a  sturdy  knight  with  steel  cuirass  and  a  forbid 
ding  look,  popularly  supposed  to  have  been  the 
greatest  marauder  of  his  time,  and  below, 
the  picture  of  an  abbess,  whose  sweet  face 
contrasted  strangely  with  the  evil,  passionate 
countenance  above.  On  the  other  side  were 
portraits  of  the  present  generation,  an  Italian 
face  in  the  midst  of  them,  of  one  that  had 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  79 

crept  in  among  the. Teutons  only  to  die  by  the 
cruel  north  wind.  Beside  her  was  a  dashing 
officer  in  red  uniform,  her  husband.  He  had 
loved  art  more  than  soldiering,  and  fell  heir  to 
Kartlow  unexpectedly  through  the  death  of  his 
brother.  These  were  the  parents  of  the  Strahls, 
long  dead.  On  the  next  wall  was  a  profile  of  a 
fair  girl,  unlike  the  rest,  in  form  and  feature  of 
the  English  type.  This  picture  reminded  one 
of  Elsa.  Above  her  were  some  children's 
heads, like  flowerets  sent  upon  earth  to  blossom 
for  an  hour  and  fade  back  into  eternity 
with  the  dew  of  heaven  still  upon  their  brows. 
They  had  been  formed  for  fairer  skies,  and 
quickly  followed  their  southern  mother  to  the 
tomb. 

Beyond  the  dining-room,  behind  the  closed 
doors,  stretched  the  banquet  hall.  It  had  been 
rarely  used,  as  the  late  Herr  von  Strahl  had 
been  called  to  Italy  by  the  sudden  illness  of  his 
wife,  and  never  finished  furnishing  the  castle. 

The  lower  floors  of  the  house  were  finished 
in  hard  woods,  and  this  great  salon,  designed 
for  state  occasions,  was  bare  of  decorations 
except  two  enormous  white  porcelain  stoves, 


8o  THE  MA  GIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

and  a  crystal  chandelier.  Since  the  return  of 
the  children  this  year,  there  had  been  an  attempt 
at  furnishing  the  salon  as  a  music-room.  A 
grand  piano  stood  in  the  bay  window  overlook 
ing  the  garden  and  park,  and  a  large  sofa  with 
a  heavy  carved  frame  was  placed  against  the 
wall  near  one  of  the  stoves.  In  front  of  it 
stood  a  carved  oak  table,  surrounded  by  several 
chairs  of  unique  design.  In  the  center  of  the 
vast  space  a  carpet  was  stretched  like  a  rug.  It 
was  a  sample  of  tapestry  work  of  a  past  gen 
eration,  a  wedding  gift  from  the  bridesmaids  of 
Berthe's  grandmother,  and  its  bright  colors  were 
faded  by  time  into  dull,  harmonious  tones. 
Eight  straight-backed  chairs,  covered  with  em 
broidered  cushions  of  the  same  period,  stood 
around  its  edges  and  held  it  in  place,  and  a  few 
modern  chairs  and  tables  scattered  around,  to 
gether  with  a  profusion  of  blooming  plants  in 
the  windows  and  singing  birds  in  cages  hang 
ing  above  them,  gave  the  whole  a  habitable  air 
that  seemed  at  first  impossible.  Gothic  folding 
doors  led  from  the  salle  to  a  suite  of  apartments 
overlooking  the  garden,  called  the  blue  and  red 
suite.  One  corner  of  the  blue  room  took  in 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE,  8 1 

the  south  tower,  and  out  of  this  led  the  apart 
ments  of  the  late  baroness,  now  occupied  by 
Sophie.  The  apartments  of  the  late  baron  on 
the  other  side  of  the  house  were  used  by 
Victor,  whose  sitting-room  was  in  the  west 
tower  in  the  front  of  the  Schloss. 

Underneath  were  the  archives  containing  all 
the  family  papers,  reached  by  a  secret  stair 
case.  In  front  of  this  tower  the  watchman 
stood  at  night  and  called  the  hours  as  they 
struck  by  the  tower  clock.  The  baron's  apart 
ments  opened  on  the  large  circular  staircase 
which  extended  up  one  flight,  bare  of  carpet 
or  rug,  to  a  long  straight  corridor  above.  This 
was  dimly  lighted  at  each  end  by  a  window. 
On  either  side  were  suites  of  rooms,  their 
hard  wood  floors  covered  plentifully  with 
rugs,  and  containing  great  wardrobes  to  sup 
ply  the  place  of  closets.  The  third  story 
was  yet  unfinished  and  served  as  a  store 
room. 

At  the  back  of  the  Schloss  there  was  a 
veranda  leading  to  the  terrace,  on  which  stood 
statues  of  Flora  and  Proserpine,  and  beyond  it 
stretched  a  beautiful  lawn,  interspersed  with 


82  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

flower  beds  of  curious  designs.  A  stream  ran 
through  the  fields  into  a  pond  surrounding  an 
island,  dashed  over  a  dam  into  the  park,  and 
flowed  irregularly  on  through  the  woods  for  a 
mile  or  more. 

A  picturesque  bridge  led  to  the  island  ;  water 
lilies  sprang  up  near  the  shore  and  swans  moved 
in  and  out  of  them. 

The  lawn  ran  down  to  the  water's  edge  on 
one  side,  and  was  shut  in  by  a  high  hedge  that 
concealed  the  fruit  and  vegetable  gardens  on 
the  other. 

Berthe  and  Sophie  von  Strahl  were  sitting 
on  the  veranda  chatting  over  their  work.  On 
a  rustic  table  before  them  lay  a  basket  of 
embroidery  silks  and  a  box  of  etching  mater 
ials.  Berthe's  agile  fingers  were  busy  con 
structing  a  plush  work  bag  for  Frau  von 
Althaus,  and  Sophie  was  etching  the  white 
wood  corners  for  an  album,  from  the  design  of 
an  old  German  print  which  she  had  copied 
with  remarkable  skill.  Victor  and  Uhlheim 
were  playing  lawn  tennis  near  the  island,  while 
the  sound  of  their  merry  shouts  reached  the 
girls  on  the  veranda. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  83 

"What  do  you  think  of  Herr  Uhlheim?" 
said  Berthe  suddenly. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Sophie.  "  It  must 
be  a  great  change  for  him." 

"  He  was  so  gay  last  winter  in  Cannes.  His 
father's  death  made  a  great  difference  to  him." 

"  Yes,  but  Xante  is  so  considerate.  She  has 
not  yet  mentioned  his  position  here." 

"  They  will  find  out  soon  enough.  A  day 
or  two  will  solve  the  mystery.  After  all  it  is 
no  secret,  and  if  he  fancied  we  were  trying  to 
be  considerate  he  would  shout  it  out  from  the 
house  tops.  I  don't  know  but  that  it  would  be 
wiser,"  said  Sophie,  as  she  filled  her  pen  with 
ink. 

"  Elsa  is  coming  to-day." 

"  Yes,  she  will  soon  be  here." 

"  And  Donna  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  fancy  the  Waldbecks  will  drive 
over." 

"There  is  Elsa  now,"  said  Berthe,  rising  from 
her  work  to  meet  Elsa,  who  had  just  appeared 
in  the  doorway. 

"  I  did  not  let  them  announce  me,"  she  said  ; 
"'because  I  knew  I  should  find  you  here, 


84  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

engaged  in  some  worthy  work  which  I  will  not 
disturb.  This  is  an  ideal  place  to  live  in,"  she 
added  with  enthusiasm  as  she  breathed  in  the 
pure  air  with  a  long  sigh  of  contentment.  "  It 
is  so  still,  very  different  from  my  sea.  After 
all,  I  think  I  could  not  live  without  the  tumult 
of  my  sea." 

The  sun  was  reflected  in  the  water  of  the 
"Teich"  and  filled  the  lilies  with  its  golden 
light,  and  in  the  distance  the  fields  of  grain 
waved  yellow  against  the  green  foliage.  A 
stork  flapped  his  wings  and  flew  noisily  to 
his  mate  in  the  nest  on  the  top  of  a  neighbor 
ing  building. 

"  This  is  our  home,"  said  Berthe,  "  and  we 
like  the  stillness.  Yet  we  can  stay  so  short  a 
time.  The  doctor  says  AVC  must  go  away  for 
two  years  this  autumn,  possibly  to  Madeira. 
Then  there  may  be  hope  for  a  perfect  cure  for 
Victor,  possibly  for  Sophie." 

"  You  are  perfectly  well,  Berthe  ?  " 

"  Yes,  as  yet."  The  reservation  implied  by 
her  tone  struck  a  chill  of  apprehension  to  Elsa's 
heart,  and  she  thought : 

"There  is  no  certainty  of  anything,  for  they 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  85 

all  inherit  the  weakness  of  their  Italian 
mother." 

But  Berthe  was  a  thorough  German  maiden, 
very  different  from  the  dark  eyed,  dusky  haired 
Sophie,  who  was  Italian  in  nature  and  appear 
ance. 

"There  they  come,"  cried  Berthe,  abruptly 
changing  the  subject  and  motioning  to  Victor 
and  Uhlheim,  who  appeared  in  the  gravel  walk 
just  below  the  terrace,  engaged  in  earnest  con 
versation. 

The  two  men  looked  up  as  they  drew  near 
and  saw  Elsa,  and  after  a  few  hurried  words, 
Uhlheim  left  Victor  and  entered  the  house  by 
another  path. 

"  Good  evening,  Elsa.  I  must  excuse  Uhlheim, 
as  he  considers  it  too  unceremonious  to  appear 
in  his  tennis  suit.  Tante  is  not  here  to  receive 
you  either.  She  usually  has  some  good  work 
on  hand." 

"  She  has  gone  to  see  the  pastorin,  who  has 
been  ill.  She  will  be  back  soon,  as  she  went 
away  early,"  said  Sophie. 

"  Here  comes  Donna,"  remarked  Victor,  as  a 
saddle-horse  led  by  a  groom  appeared  prancing 


86  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

on  the  road  to  the  stables.  "  And  Tante,  too," 
he  added. 

The  door  to  the  veranda  opened  again  to 
admit  Frau  von  Althaus  and  Donna  equipped 
in  her  riding  habit.  The  canter  from  Carlshohe 
had  deepened  the  color  in  her  cheek  to  crimson. 
She  shook  hands  cordially  with  them  all, 
scanned  Elsa's  face  with  her  keen  eyes,  and 
seated  herself  on  the  bench  against  the  wall. 
She  seemed  to  bring  a  refreshing  breeze  with  her. 

"  Glorious  day.  You  ought  not  to  sit  here 
working.  No  one  should  be  still  on  such  a  day. 
Every  thing  should  be  moving.  Tante  Alt 
haus  is  the  only  one  here  with  any  energy," 
she  cried,  baring  her  head  to  the  summer  wind 
that  tossed  her  hair  in  wild  confusion. 

"Your  ride  has  given  you  a  glow  which  is 
contagious,  but  Tante  has  energy  enough  for  us 
all,"  said  Victor. 

"  We  all  know  that  you  are  lazy,  Victor.  By 
the  way,  I  thought  the  Waldbecks  were  coming. 
I  saw  their  carriage  on  the  chaussee,  driving 
this  way." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Frau  von  Althaus,  plac 
ing  a  great  bunch  of  corn  flowers  which  she  had 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  87 

gathered  in  her  walk  on  the  table.     "The  car 
riage  went  to  W —  to  meet  Caroline." 

"  Caroline  will  have  a  hard  time  among  the 
Waldbecks.  I  don't  envy  her,"  said  Donna. 

"  And  who  is  Caroline,"  asked  Elsa. 

"  She  is  the  unfortunate  sister  of  Herr  von 
Waldbeck,  who  eloped  with  her  brother's  tutor 
some  ten  years  ago.  It  was  a  great  scandal,  but 
you,  Elsa,  would  hardly  remember  it.  The  family 
disowned  her.  He  died  and  left  her  penniless 
with  one  child.  She  has  come  back  to  the 
Waldbecks'  for  an  indefinite  period." 

"  Poor  Caroline,"  murmured  Donna. 

"  Here  comes  Uhlheim  at  last,"  cried  Victor. 
"  Come  here,  my  friend,  I  wish  to  introduce 
you  to  Fraulein  von  Konigsmarkand  my  cousin 
Friiulein  von  Rabenhorst." 

Herr  Uhlheim  bowed  and  turned  to  Vic 
tor's  aunt,  who  was  arranging  the  wild-flowers  in 
a  majolica  jar. 

"Let  me  help  you,"  he  said.  "I  am  no 
bungler,  believe  me." 

"  Few  men  have  the  gift  of  arranging  flowers 
gracefully,"  she  said,  "  and  those  who  can,  do 
nothing  else  well.  Now,  you — 


88  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"  That  is  a  doubtful  compliment,"  he 
answered  laughing. 

He  leaned  against  one  of  the  pillars  support 
ing  the  veranda  and  looked  nonchalantly  at 
Frau  von  Althaus.  His  eyes  rested  critically  on 
Elsa  for  a  moment.  She  was  conscious  of  his 
presence.  For  days  her  thoughts  had  been  oc 
cupied  with  him  ;  with  theories  about  his  life 
and  interests.  She  had  hoped  yet  feared  to 
meet  him,  and  now,  brought  face  to  face  with 
him,  she  felt  that  he  was  absolutely  indifferent 
to  her  presence.  Donna  sat  silently  by  her 
side  looking  off  over  the  green  lawn  into  the 
distance.  An  expression  of  sadness  stole  over 
her  face. 

"  What  is  it,  Donna  ?  "  asked  Elsa  softly. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  the  unhappiness  in  the 
world." 

"  Of  Caroline  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Caroline ! "  remarked  Victor,  who  had  caught 
the  name.  "  Ah  !  why  did  she  make  a  fool  of 
herself?  " 

"  I  can't  help  feeling  sorry  for  her,  neverthe 
less." 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  89 

"  I  am  not,"  observed  Elsa,  the  expression  of 
her  face  growing  chilly  and  unsympathetic. 
"She  married  beneath  her;  she  stooped  to 
that  man's  level,  and  was  punished." 

Uhlheim  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  coldly  at 
Elsa. 

"  Who  is  this  culprit  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  daughter  of  a  neighbor  who  ran  away 
with  her  brother's  tutor  and  married  him," 
explained  Elsa. 

A  curious  expression  passed  over  the  faces  of 
the  Strahls.  Victor  drew  a  long  breath  and 
began  hurriedly :  "  But,  Elsa,  this  was  a  peculiar 
case." 

"  No,"  said  Elsa,  calmly,  "  she  had  no  excuse." 

"Not  even  that  of  love?"  said  Uhlheim, 
inquiringly.  "You  are  severe,  gnadiges  Frau- 
lein." 

"  There  should  have  been  no  question  of  love 
between  them." 

"  Elsa  is  extreme  in  her  ideas  on  some  sub 
jects,"  remarked  Frau  von  Althaus,  slightly 
flushing.  "  This  case  was  aggravated  because 
they  were  absolutely  dependent  on  Herr  von 
Waldbeck." 


90  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"  A  lack  of  money  as  well.  That  is  a  crime, 
but  tutors  are  not  apt  to  be  blessed  with  a  super 
abundance  of  gold,"  continued  Uhlheim,  in  an 
ironical  tone. 

"  But  you  see,"  exclaimed  Donna,  "  if  she 
had  married  a  noble,  her  daughter  might  have 
drawn  a  dowry  from  the  convent.  For  in  the 
old  days  when  the  convents  passed  from  the 
hands  of  the  Church  each  of  our  ancestors  took 
a  certain  right  in  the  lands.  The  names  of  the 
daughters  are  entered  as  soon  as  they  are  born. 
After  a  certain  time  these  girls  are  entitled  to  a 
yearly  income  from  the  convents,  but  if  they 
marry,  this  stipend  is  forfeited.  If  unmarried 
at  a  certain  age,  they  have  the  privilege  of 
retiring  to  the  particular  convent  where  their 
names  have  been  entered  to  spend  the  rest  of 
their  lives.  They  enter  with  form  and  cere 
mony,  dressed  like  brides,  in  white,  with  veils, 
but  they  can  get  leave  of  absence  at  any  time 
from  the  authorities,  and  if  they  wish  to  marry 
they  can  still  do  so.  It  is  more  like  a  home 
than  a  religious  order.  Caroline  could  draw  her 
dowry  before  her  marriage,  she  had  the  right, 
but  the  daughter  is  debarred  through  her  father, 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A   VOICE.  91 

because,  to  inherit  this  precious  privilege  one's 
family  must  have  been  noble  for  sixteen  gen 
erations." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  Caroline,"  remarked  Uhlheim. 

"  And  she  has  to  live  with  a  censorious 
woman  who  will  not  let  her  forget  her  position," 
added  Donna. 

"  And  Fraulein  von  Rabenhorst  withholds  her 
sympathy  ?" 

"  Oh !  no,  I  am  sorry  for  her  suffering,  but  I 
have  no  sympathy  for  the  act  that  brought  it 
upon  her." 

"  Do  not  attempt  to  argue  with  Elsa,"  inter 
rupted  Victor,  hurriedly.  "  When  you  once 
begin  an  argument  with  her  there  is  no  end 
to  it." 

"Now  who  would  think  that  this  insolent 
boy  could  be  my  pupil  ?  "  rejoined  Uhlheim, 
laughing.  "  He  shows  me  so  little  respect." 

Into  what  a  predicament  had  Elsa's  thought 
less  words  led  her  !  Yet  this  man,  thoroughly 
at  ease,  was  so  different  from  any  '  Herr  Candi- 
dat ',  the  only  kind  of  tutor  she  had  ever  seen, 
that  she  could  not  believe  he  was  serious  in 
speaking  of  Victor  as  a  pupil. 


92  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"  He  appreciates  fully  your  great  kindness 
in  teaching  him,"  said  Frau  von  Althaus,  in  a 
kindly  tone.  "  I'm  sure  that  he  tries  you 
sadly." 

"  I  wager  he  has  never  been  as  friendly  with 
his  former  tutors,  but  he  does  his  best  not  to 
profit  by  my  instruction." 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  he  would  shout  it 
from  the  housetops?"  whispered  Sophie  to  her 
sister. 

"You  have  no  idea,"  continued  Uhlheim, 
plucking  the  blossom  off  the  vine  that  twined 
around  the  post  against  which  he  was  leaning. 
"  how  much  difficulty  I  have  in  making  him 
see  any  thing  from  a  rational  standpoint." 

"  Oh,  you  forget  that  Victor  has  not  the 
nature  of  the  North  German,"  said  Donna;  "he 
is  essentially  Italian." 

"  But  he  must  be  trained  as  a  North  German. 
He  abhors  mathematics,  philosophy  he  will 
have  nothing  to  do  with,  and  I  believe  he 
has  no  taste  for  agriculture.  He  must  master 
that  or  his  estates  will  go  under.  It  would  be 
much  better  for  him  if  he  were  more  Ger 
man." 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  93 

"  And  if  to  be  German  is  to  be  practical  at 
the  expense  of  his  poetical  instinct,"  remarked 
Elsa  defiantly,  "  let  him  remain  as  he  is." 

"  Exactly  his  unpractical  argument,  .gracious 
Fraulein." 

"  Let  me  alone,"  cried  Victor.  "  I  shall  do 
very  well." 

"  There  speaks  the  dolce  far  niente  spirit," 
responded  Donna  laughing.  "  You  ought  to 
be  ashamed  of  yourself,  Victor." 

"  I  cry  peccavi" 

Victor  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  turned  to 
speak  to  Elsa,  who  answered  listlessly.  She 
had  listened  to  the  conversation  about  her  in 
silence.  She  was  shocked  at  discovering  that 
the  man  who  had  engrossed  her  thoughts  for  days 
past  as  the  highest  type  of  manhood  was  not 
of  her  class,  and  occupied  a  position  beneath 
her ;  a  position  of  which  he  was  apparently 
not  ashamed,  since  he  stood  there  carelessly 
and  good  humoredly  discussing  it  with  no  air 
of  bravado,  but  as  something  rather  to  be  proud 
of.  He  was  apparently  on  an  equal  footing 
with  them  all.  Indeed  this  man,  whose  strength 
and  beauty  placed  him  far  above  all  other  men 


94  THE  MA  GIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

she  had  seen,  seemed  to  bring  his  mind  down 
to  their  common-place  level. 

And  yet  there  was  nothing  inharmonious  in 
his  manner.  He  was  thoroughly  well  bred 
and  at  ease,  but  there  was  something  incon 
gruous  in  his  position. 

He  looked  more  of  an  aristocrat  than  any 
scion  of  nobility  she  had  known.  He  met 
her  eye  openly,  almost  defiantly,  she  fancied, 
and  her  pride  rose  in  rebellion  against  his 
assumed  superiority. 

After  all  he  was  not  of  her  rank  and  should 
possess  no  interest  for  her.  His  glance  had 
thrilled  her,  because  she  had  never  thought  it 
possible  that  any  save  men  of  her  own  class 
could  control  her  fancy. 

She  had  lived  dreaming  in  a  corner  of 
the  world.  Of  her  life  the  people  formed 
no  part  except  as  recipients  of  her  bounty.  The 
high  wall  of  conventionality  shut  them  out  from 
her.  Therefore  this  man  of  inferior  birth  could 
exist  for  her  simply  as  Victor's  tutor,  to  be 
received  in  the  family  as  a  necessary  appendage. 
Civility  was  due  him  as  to  the  doctor  or  parson 
or  any  person  of  the  middle  class,  but  beyond 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  95 

this  nothing,  for  there  was  the  social  barrier  of 
caste  between  them. 

She  was  seized  with  a  revulsion  of  feeling 
against  this  burgher  who  had  exercised  such  a 
powerful  influence  over  her  mind,  and  her  pride 
rose  in  antagonism  to  him. 

"  Mecklenburg  is  an  unexplored  country  for 
me.  I  have  never  been  so  far  north  before," 
he  was  saying  to  Donna. 

"  And  Herr  Uhlheim  has  traveled  the  world 
over,"  cried  Victor.  "  Think  of  that !  " 

"Why  not?"  rejoined  Donna.  "There  is  noth 
ing  to  attract  a  foreigner  here.  The  old  town 
of  W—  -  is  quaint,  and  the  Schloss  at  Schwe- 
rin  is  charming;  the  country  is  like  a  garden  to 
be  sure,  but  there  are  castles  and  old  towns 
elsewhere.  Nobody  stays  here  unless  he  must." 

"  But  nowhere  is  the  sea  so  beautiful,"  ex 
claimed  Elsa  with  enthusiasm.  "  It  dashes 
grandly  against  the  cliffs  when  the  north  wind 
sweeps  over  it,  and  falls  back  in  glittering 
spray  like  myriads  of  diamonds.  There  is  no 
sea  like  the  Baltic  in  the  world.  I  have  not 
been  a  wanderer  like  the  rest  of  you.  This 
land  is  my  home,  and  I  love  it." 


g6  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"And  Elsa  is  right,"  rejoined  Donna,  with 
emphasis.  "  Although  I  for  one  plead  guilty 
to  loving  other  lands  better  than  my  own, 
hers  is  a  sentiment  to  be  commended  in  the 
abstract." 

"  Possibly  if  Fraulein  von  Rabenhorst  should 
travel,  she  too  might  be  converted  to  other 
lands." 

"  You  don't  know  her.  She  would  come  back 
with  the  same  prejudice  in  favor  of  her  sea/' 
answered  Donna,  shaking  her  head.  "  She  is 
incorrigible." 

"  '  Breathes  there  a  man  with  soul  so  dead/  " 
quoted  Victor  in  a  sepulchral  voice. 

"Victor,  your  English  accent  is  abominable." 

"  But  the  sentiment  is  good,"  retorted  Victor, 
uncrushed  by  Donna's  criticism. 

Uhlheim  looked  at  Elsa  critically  ;  her  face 
had  regained  its  habitual  air  of  cold  indifference. 
Her  eyes  were  cast  down,  the  white  lids  covered 
the  burning  depths  he  did  not  see  : 

"  Oh,  Undine  !  "  he  thought,  "  so  beautiful  in 
your  coldness." 

Why  had  he  felt  the  opposition  of  her  nature 
from  the  first  moment  that  he  glanced  at  her  in 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  97 

the  church  ?  She  was  proud  and  cold  like  the 
rest  of  her  kind. 

The  clock  in  the  tower  struck  seven. 

"So  late!"  exclaimed  Elsa,  rising.  "Victor, 
will  you  order  my  phaeton?  " 

"  Certainly,  if  you  must  go." 

The  phaeton  appeared  from  the  stables  as  she 
spoke. 

"And  you  have  little  Hans  as  groom," 
said  Sophie.  "  I  thought  he  was  in  dis 
grace." 

"  But  did  you  never  hear  the  end  of  that 
story?"  asked  Donna. 

"  What  was  it  ?  "  exclaimed  Berthe  and 
Sophie  Strahl  simultaneously. 

"  Simply  this.  The  old  general  was  very 
angry  and  said  he  would  send  him  to  prison. 
Elsa  was  playing  in  the  next  room  on  the 
piano.  She  could  see  the  little  culprit  in  the 
mirror  at  the  end  of  the  room  as  he  stood  before 
her  stern  father,  hanging  his  head  in  a  shame 
faced  way.  She  played  on.  Suddenly  the  boy 
lifted  his  head  and  listened.  His  face  lost  its 
dull  look;  he  did  not  hear  the  stern  reprimand 
and  threat  of  awful  punishment,  but  crept  nearer 


98  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE, 

the  door.  '  I  shall  send  you  to  jail,'  thundered 
the  general. 

"  'You  will  give  him  to  me,  papa/  called  Elsa 
from  the  distance. 

"  At  the  sound  of  Elsa's  voice  little  Hans 
shrank  back  terrified.  The  general  demurred, 
but  finally  ended  by  agreeing  to  her  proposal 
and  gave  Hans  another  trial." 

"  Why  did  you  take  the  little  scapegrace, 
Elsa?  "asked  Victor.  "There  is  no  good  in 
the  family.  They  are  a  set  of  rascals.  His 
father  is  in  prison  now." 

"  No  one  who  loves  music  is  thoroughly  bad, 
Victor,  and  I  shall  reform  him,"  returned  Elsa 
confidently. 

"  You  have  great  faith  in  the  efficacy  of 
music,"  observed  Uhlheim. 

"  Say,  rather,  she  has  that  divine  faith  in 
human  nature  possessed  by  the  angels,"  an 
swered  Donna. 

"  He  will  betray  you.  Don't  put  your  faith 
in  him,"  said  Uhlheim. 

"  I  gave  my  word  that  he  would  do  better," 
replied  Elsa,  proudly  lifting  her  eyes  to  meet 
his%  "  He  will  not  make  me  break  my  word." 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  99 

"  If  he  has  the  nature  to  appreciate  your  trust 
he  will  prove  the  exception." 

"  He  has  not  failed  so  far." 

Uhlheim  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

They  had  walked  to  the  front  of  the  Schloss, 
where  the  object  of  discussion  stood  waiting. 
His  dark  eyes  searched  eagerly  for  his  mistress, 
quick  to  note  her  slightest  movement. 

"  I  may  be  wrong,"  muttered  Uhlheim  in  a 
low  voice  as  he  looked  at  the  lad.  "  But  who 
knows,"  he  added  bitterly.  "  It  is  better  not  to 
trust." 

Elsa  gathered  up  the  reins  and  drove  off 
through  the  village. 

"  She  is  predestined  to  suffer,"  murmured 
Donna,  half  to  herself. 

"  Through  pride,"  added  Uhlheim,  and  turned 
away. 


VI. 


T  THLHEIM  and  Victor  left  the  group  that 
i_j  was  standing  on  the  steps  and  disappeared 
round  the  corner  of  the  Schloss.  The  sun  was 
setting  and  the  evening  stillness  had  settled  on 
the  fields.  The  notes  of  the  nightingale 
sounded  over  the  pond,  the  swans  had  disap 
peared,  and  the  echo  of  the  men's  footsteps  was 
the  only  sound  to  break  the  stillness.  They 
turned  toward  the  wood  after  passing  the 
bridge  that  led  to  the  island  and  followed  the 
path  through  the  park. 

"What  do  you  think  of  her?  "  asked  Victor 
at  last. 

"Of  whom?" 

"Of  Elsa!" 

"  I  have  not  thought  of  her,"  answered  Uhl- 
heim  indifferently. 

"  How  could  you  help  it  ?  " 

"  She  does  not  please  me,  if  you  must 
know.  But  you  do  not  ask  me  of  what 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  IOI 

I  am  thinking,"  added  Uhlheim,  abruptly 
changing  the  subject.  "  I  must  scold  you ; 
your  aunt  is  dissatisfied  with  your  progress." 

"  My  aunt  has  a  mistaken  idea  about  me," 
cried  Victor,  throwing  himself  full  length  in 
the  grass  under  a  tree,  and  resting  his  head  on 
his  elbow.  "  It  may  be  well  enough  for  other 
fellows  to  study  Kant  and  Hegel  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing,  but  I  think  it  would  do  me  no 
good." 

"  But  a  man  must  know  something  of 
philosophy  and  metaphysics,"  answered  his 
tutor.  "And  you  are  shockingly  ignorant,  my 
boy." 

"Possibly,"  rejoined  Victor,  flushing  slightly. 
"  But  I  had  rather  be  ignorant." 

"That  argument  is  unworthy  of  you." 

"  I  wish  to  preserve  my  illusions." 

"  Laudable  desire,  very !  Unfortunately, 
one's  illusions  must  be  destroyed  in  spite  of  the 
tenderest  nursing." 

"Or,  by  too  much  knowledge  of  Kant's 
theories,"  added  Victor  laughing.  "  Where 
ignorance  is  bliss,  'tis  folly  to  be  wise  !  " 

"  You  talk  like  a  girl.     A  man's  mind  should 


102  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

investigate.  When  men  discuss  subjects  a  school 
boy  should  be  conversant  with,  do  you  wish 
to  stand  and  gape  dully  at  them?  The  German 
school  of  philosophy  is  world-renowned,  and 
you,  a  German,  wish  to  know  nothing  of  it  ?  " 
Uhlheim's  tone  was  severe. 

"  There  are  works  of  the  devil  one  wishes  to 
know  nothing  of,"  returned  Victor  with  a 
frown. 

"  Pshaw  !  You  have  been  in  the  hands  of 
stupid  narrow  theologians  all  your  life.  Is  there 
one  man  among  all  your  tutors  here,  in  Meck 
lenburg,  of  unbiased  mind  ?  These  so-called 
instructors  keep  all  progressive  books  out  of 
your  reach,  as  the  Romanists  forbid  their  people 
the  Bible  for  fear  of  the  mischief  a  broadened 
vision  might  do  their  institutions.  As  Luther's 
translation  of  the  Bible  led  to  liberality  in 
religion  in  past  ages,  so  will  books  on  philoso 
phy  and  metaphysics  lead  to  a  new  era  in  its 
future  history." 

"  By  destroying  it  and  making  the  world 
material,"  retorted  Victor.  "  It  is  bad  enough 
to  be  an  infidel  and  deny  Christ,  but  to  me  an 
atheist  is  horrible." 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  103 

"  You  go  too  far,"  observed  the  other  reflect 
ively.  "  How  can  one  deny  the  existence  of  God 
with  evidence  of  His  presence  in  boundless 
nature.  Call  it  Nature  or  God,  some  power  which 
we  do  not  understand  moves  the  springs  of  this 
universe  and  created  us.  But  why  trammel  our 
selves  with  unnecessary  detail  ?  Why  allow  the 
paraphernalia  of  the  church  to  hamper  us  ?  The 
result  of  research  is  to  tear  away  the  veil  of  super 
stition,  and  leave  one  free  to  cast  away  the  chaff 
and  preserve  the  grain.  I  was  born  a  Roman 
ist.  To-day  I  am  Catholic  in  the  broadest 
sense." 

"  I  have  not  the  strength  to  investigate," 
said  Victor,  sullenly. 

"  You  mean  that  you  are  afraid  to  investi 
gate." 

"  Herr  Uhlheim,  the  Christ  has  always  been 
my  friend  since  I  could  fold  my  hands  in 
prayer.  He  has  been  my  strength  in  illness, 
my  refuge  in  sorrow.  You  ask  me  to  give  up  a 
stronghold  for  an  uncertainty  ;  to  cast  doubt  on 
His  identity  and  His  lessons  of  self-sacrifice. 
Those  who  attack  His  divinity,  attack  me.  He 
is  my  Saviour  and  without  him  I  am  lost.  If 


104  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

I  had  the  mind  to  grasp  these  abstruse  theories 
and  my  faith  were  shaken,  I  should  be  lost 
indeed,  for  what  could  you  give  me  in  return  ?  " 

Victor  had  the  expression  of  a  hunted  ani 
mal  in  his  soft,  brown  eyes,  so  like  a  woman's. 

"  Far  be  it  from  me  to  take  any  thing  away 
from  you,  my  boy.  You  can  not  separate  your 
intellect  from  your  heart's  instincts.  If  this  is 
a  question  of  feeling  such  as  you  describe  we 
will  never  touch  Kant  or  any  of  the  rascals." 

"You  would  be  no  friend  to  me  if  you  would 
shake  my  faith,"  returned  Victor,  in  a  reproach 
ful  tone. 

"  I  would  not  shake  your  faith,  if  you  are 
blessed  with  faith.  I  would  merely  give 
you  works  of  science  to  broaden  your 
mind.  I  would  have  you  look  into  the 
thoughts  and  theories  of  clever  men  ;  but  if  it 
would  pain  you  and  bring  dissatisfaction  into  a 
life  that  has  the  rare  gift  of  happy  unconscious 
ness,  I  would  be  the  last  one  to  suggest  these 
studies.  Remember,  I  am  not  a  tutor  like  those 
you  have  known  formerly.  I  would  give  you  a 
glimpse  of  the  world  from  the  broadest  stand 
point.  But  you  can  never  be  a  man  of  the 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  105 

world.  You  are  not  made  of  the  right  stuff. 
You  are  idealistic,  irrational,  and — 

"  Ignorant.  Say  it,  my  friend,  it  is  true. 
But  if  knowledge  bring  sorrow,  let  me  still  be 
ignorant." 

"Yes,"  returned  Uhlheim.  "  After  all,  hap 
piness  is  the  main  thing,  and  one  learns  lessons 
from  such  as  you.  Does  not  the  divine  English 
poet  say : 

"  '  Leave  thou  thy  sister  when  she  prays, 
Her  early  Heaven,  her  happy  views  ; 
Nor  thou  with  shadow'd  hint  confuse 
A  life  that  leads  melodious  days. 
Her  faith  thro'  form  is  pure  as  thine, 
Her  hands  are  quicker  unto  good, 
Oh  !  sacred  be  the  flesh  and  blood 
To  which  she  links  a  truth  divine. 
See  thou,  that  countest  reason  ripe 
In  holding  by  the  law  within, 
Thou  fail  not  in  a  world  of  sin, 
And  ev'n  for  want  of  such  a  type.'  " 

"  I  have  not  a  mind  like  yours,"  remarked 
Victor,  somewhat  bitterly.  "  Let  me  be.  I 
like  the  sunshine  and  the  flowers,  and  best  of 
all,  my  violin.  You  should  talk  to  my  cousin 
Elsa,"  he  added,  lying  back  and  looking  up 


106  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

through  the  branches  at  the  sky.  "  She  has 
mind  and  soul  combined." 

"  Her  soul  is  in  your  imagination.  She  is 
cold  as  ice." 

*'  But  her  music.  They  say  she  is  full  of 
music.  She  played  Gounod's  '  Ave  Maria  ' 
divinely  with  me  three  years  ago." 

Uhlheim  smiled. 

"  I  fancy  your  imagination  colored  that  per 
formance,  too." 

Victor  colored  and  followed  the  flight  of  a 
bird  high  up  in  the  heavens. 

"  I  have  had  small  play  for  my  imagination, 
for  I  have  seen  her  so  seldom  ;  but  I  assure  you 
that  she  can  play  so  as  to  make  your  veins  run 
fire.  You  will  find  it  out  some  day." 

But  Uhlheim  thought  of  the  pale  face,  and 
smiled  somewhat  incredulously.  That  form 
in  somber  draperies,  well  proportioned  as 
it  was,  could  never  embody  his  mysterious 
voice.  There  was  silence  for  a  time,  and  Vic 
tor,  lulled  by  the  buzzing  insects,  closed  his 
eyes  and  fell  asleep,  his  long  lashes  fringing 
his  cheek. 

The  breeze  rustled  through    the  trees  and 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  107 

died  away.  Suddenly  there  rose  a  wail  as  of  a 
human  voice,  but  so  sad  in  its  tone  as  to  make 
one  shudder. 

Uhlheim  raised  his  head  quickly.  Nearer, 
louder  it  came,  until  it  seemed  to  surround 
them  and  passed  on. 

"  My  God  !  "  cried  Uhlheim,  "  I  have  argued 
this  last  hour  against  superstition,  while  I  myself 
am  bound  in  the  meshes  of  a  superstition  as 
incredible  as  any  of  the  dogmas  I  have  decried." 

Again  the  voice  sounded  through  the  forest 
and  died  away. 

"  It  speaks  to  me  of  things  I  have  never 
found  in  my  life  and  never  shall  find.  It  stirs 
my  soul  with  longing  for  the  unattainable.  It 

haunts  and  it  mocks  me." 

•*  *  *  *  # 

Elsa  drove  rapidly  over  the  chaussee,  urging 
her  pony  to  the  utmost.  Little  Hans  behind, 
with  his  arms  folded  stiffly,  swayed  in  his  seat 
as  they  turned  the  corners.  Her  lips  were  com 
pressed,  her  eyes  gazed  steadily  from  under  her 
knit  brows,  and  her  heart  ached  dully.  The 
discovery  that  her  hero  was  of  the  middle  class 
overwhelmed  her  with  shame.  The  thought  that 


108  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

she,  who  prided  herself  on  her  name  and  boldly 
asserted  that  a  man  was  not  a  gentleman 
unless  he  was  noble,  could  have  idealized  a 
man  in  Uhlheim's  position  humiliated  her  to 
the  dust.  A  small  voice  whispered  to  her 
heart  : 

"  Still  he  is  noble,  accident  of  birth  or  posi 
tion  can  not  debase  his  nature.  He  is  worthy 
of  your  love."  Love  !  No,  she  had  made  the 
discovery  in  time  to  save  herself  the  disgrace 
of  having  loved  him. 

Not  only  did  he  laugh  at  her  and  show  her 
plainly  how  little  impression  she  had  made  on 
him,  but  he  seemed  to  glory  in  his  position. 
She  would  treat  him  with  the  indiffer 
ence  he  merited,  and  wither  his  presumption 
with  her  scorn.  They  reached  Rabenhorst. 
And  well  named  it  was  with  its  gloomy  sur 
roundings.  The  sky  was  clouded,  a  storm  was 
brewing,  the  wind  swept  over  the  sea  in  fitful 
gusts  and  capped  the  waves.  It  suited  her  mood, 
for  she  was  thoroughly  roused  and  the  blood 
tingled  in  her  veins.  She  ran  up  the  winding 
staircase  into  the  salon  and  threw  open 
the  casement.  The  wind  scattered  the  papers 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  109 

and  books  in  confusion  ;  but  it  seemed  to  calm 
her  troubled  spirit. 

"  Du  lieber  Gott  !  "  exclaimed  a  querulous 
voice  behind  her.  "  What  are  you  doing, 
Elsa ! " 

"Nothing,  Tante." 

"  But  it  rains  and  every  thing  will  be  spoiled." 
The  old  lady  moved  about  as  quickly  as  her 
fat  limbs  would  carry  her  to  remedy  the  havoc 
caused  by  the  violence  of  the  wind.  Elsa  closed 
the  casement.  "  There,  that  is  better.  Why  ! 
your  hair  is  flying  in  all  directions." 

The  old  Fraulein  sat  down  panting  from  her 
exertion.  "  So  you  saw  them  all.  And  is  the 
handsome  stranger  Herr  von  Mecklin's  son? 
I'm  very  curious  to  hear  all  about  him." 

Elsa  did  not  answer. 

"  He  does  not  look  a  bit  like  his  father," 
continued  the  old  lady. 

"  He  is  not  Herr  von  Mecklin's  son  ?"  inter 
rupted  Elsa  shortly.  "  His  name  is  Uhlheim." 

"  Uhlheim !  There  is  no  Mecklenburg 
family  of  that  name  among  the  nobility. 
Uhlheim,  let  me  see,  von  Uhlheim  of  course." 

"  Why  of  course?  "  said  Elsa  with  impatience. 


no  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    I'OICE. 

11  His  name  is  simply  Uhlheim,  and  he  is 
Victor's  tutor." 

"That  man  a  tutor!"  exclaimed  Fraulein 
von  Klein,  lifting  her  hands  in  amazement. 

Before  her  eyes  passed  an  array  of  tutors 
such  as  she  had  known,  undersized  men  of 
inferior  ability,  who  taught  humbly  and  unpre 
tentiously,  a  painful  contrast  to  the  elegant- 
looking  man  who  filled  that  position  at  Kart- 
low. 

"  I  must  say  that  I  think  Victor's  aunt  a  very 
peculiar  woman.  Such  a  lion  among  her  lambs ! 
Suppose  one  of  the  girls  should  fall  in  love  with 
him.  It  is  highly  dangerous  and  improper." 

Elsa  flushed  to  the  eyes. 

"  Your  supposition  is  highly  improper,  Tante," 
she  cried  with  flashing  eyes.  "  They  could  not 
so  disgrace  themselves  !  " 

"  Nonsense  !  All  very  fine,  but  human  na 
ture  is  weak ;  and  he  really  looks  like  a  gentle 
man.  What  a  scandal  it  would  create  !  Frau 
von  Althaus  is  crazy.  This  is  one  of  their  for 
eign  acquisitions.  Traveling  does  no  good, 
for  it  puts  silly  notions  into  one's  head.  The 
idea  of  bringing  a  man  like  that  to  quiet,  re- 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  1 1 1 

spectable  Mecklenburg,  and  letting  him  loose 
among  us  all !  Perhaps  she  likes  him  herself; 
I  shouldn't  be  at  all  surprised — 

"  Xante,  I  will  not  listen  to  you  !  "  cried  Elsa, 
indignantly.  "And  you  a  '  Stifts  dame',  who 
have  spent  twenty  years  in  convent  life  ! 
Where  did  you  get  such  horrible  thoughts?  I 
am  shocked  at  you  !  " 

Then,  casting  an  indignant  glance  at  the  old 
lady,  she  swept  out  of  the  room. 

But  the  words  had  left  their  sting.  Why 
should  they  not  fall  in  love  with  him?  If  his 
power  over  her  had  been  so  strong,  why 
should  others  not  yield  to  it?  She  threw 
herself  on  her  chaise  tongue  and  burst  into 
tears. 

And  the  old  "  Stifts  dame  "  in  the  salon  mut 
tered  :  "To  think  that  Elsa  should  be  such  a 
spitfire !  she  who  is  always  so  cool  and  reserved. 
Perhaps  I  was  hasty."  Then  she  hurried  to 
tell  the  under-housekeeper  that  the  handsome 
Herr  in  the  Strahl  pew  last  Sunday  was  only 
Victor's  new  tutor,  and  not  so  fine  a  personage 
after  all. 

Elsa  was  roused  from  her  position  by  two 


112  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

little  hands  clasping  her  hot  palm  and  a  soft 
cheek  pressed  against  hers. 

"  Schwester  Elsa,"  murmured  a  childish  voice 
in  her  ear.  "  My  dear  Schwester,  do  not  cry ! 
Heine  will  comfort  you." 

"  Dear  child  !  "  exclaimed  Elsa,  as  she  clasped 
the  boy  to  her  heart.  "You  always  comfort 
me." 

"But  why  are  you  unhappy,  dear  sister? 
Who  has  dared  to  vex  you  ?  "  He  doubled  up 
his  tiny  fists  and  shook  them  at  the  imagi 
nary  enemy.  "  Just  tell  me  and  I  will  kill 
him  !  " 

"Hush,  my  darling,"  murmured  Elsa,  wiping 
away  the  traces  of  her  recent  tears.  "  Noth 
ing  troubles  me  when  you  are  near."  She 
smiled,  looking  tenderly  down  into  his  up 
turned  face. 

"Tell  me  about  the  storks,"  he  said,  nestling 
close  to  her.  "  Listen  to  the  wind  !  The  storks 
are  safe  from  the  storm  at  Kartlow?" 

"Yes.  dear,  quite  safe,"  she  whispered,  to 
quiet  his  anxiety. 

"  Did  you  see  the  father  stork  fly  to  the 
mother  stork  in  the  nest  above  the  laundry,  and 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  113 

bring  food  to  the  little  ones?  1  wanted  to  go 
and  see  them  to-day.  You  will  take  me  some 
time,  and  I  will  sit  up  in  Hans's  seat  behind. 
It  is  just  big  enough  for  me." 

"Yes,  dear,"  answered  Elsa  absently,  patting 
his  ruddy  cheek. 

"  But  the  stork  story  !  Tell  me  while  the 
winds  blow  outside.  Please  go  on  !  " 

Then  Elsa  began,  but  her  sweet  voice  had  a 
tinge  of  sadness  in  its  tone,  and  the  story,  tak 
ing  color  from  her  mood,  was  so  gloomy  that 
little  Heine  interrupted  her  with  vehemence, 
crying  reproachfully : 

"  You  never  told  me  such  a  cruel  story  before, 
but  I  don't  believe  it  is  true.  How  wicked  for 
the  father  bird  to  go  away  and  leave  them  all. 
I  don't  like  that  story  at  all.  I  like  the  one 
where  the  stork  is  saved  from  his  enchantment 
by  a  lovely  lady  and  becomes  a  prince,  and 
there  is  happiness  ever  after." 

"  Ah  !  but  there  is  not  happiness  ever  after," 
replied  Elsa,  listlessly.  "  No,  I  can't  tell  you 
good  stories  to-day,  I  am  not  in  the  right  mood. 
The  wind  makes  me  restless." 

She  leaned  her  cheek  against  the  golden  head 


114  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

pillowed  on  her  bosom,  and  murmured  softly : 
"  It  is  only  the  wind." 

The  next  day  two  things  occurred  to  influence 
Elsa's  life.  Her  father  was  called  away  to 
Austria  by  the  severe  illness  of  an  old  friend,  and 
Elsa  and  Heine  were  invited  to  visit  at  Kart- 
low  for  an  indefinite  period.  Fraulein  von  Klein 
protested  against  the  visit  as  dangerous.  The 
general  favored  it  in  terms  that  were  almost  a 
command,  not  wishing  to  leave  his  children 
alone  for  so  long  a  time,  as  his  absence  might  be 
prolonged  for  weeks.  Elsa  disdained  any  notice 
of  the  old  lady's  insinuations  and  determined  to 
prove  them  unfounded  by  going  to  Kartlow, 
where  she  would  live  under  the  same  roof  with 
this  dangerous  lion  and  prove  herself  utterly 
superior  to  his  influence.  Some  of  the 
neighbors  had  gone  to  the  seashore,  so  that  at 
Kartlow  they  were  comparatively  dependent 
on  themselves  for  society.  Matilda  von  Wald- 
beck  had  been  sent  to  her  grandmother  in 
Berlin  to  prepare  for  her  confirmation,  her 
mother  said,  but  according  to  Donna's  version 
in  order  that  Matilda  might  be  out  of  reach  of 
her  own  pernicious  influence.  Donna  rode  over 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  115 

to  Kartlow  almost  every  day.  Together  she 
and  Elsa  would  wander  through  the  woods, 
picking  wild  flowers,  or  would  drive  through  the 
summer  air  at  a  rapid  pace,  engaged  in  talk 
about  life  at  the  princess's  court,  where  Donna 
had  seen  many  people  of  note  and  fashion.  Of 
love  they  never  spoke.  Elsa's  ideas  were  no 
longer  vague.  She  had  given  up  theorizing  on 
the  subject,  and  Donna  was  already  regarded 
as  an  old  maid  and  possible  "  Stifts  dame"  by 
her  friends. 

The  Strahl  girls  were  not  imaginative  like 
their  brother,  whose  violin  was  the  medium 
through  which  his  thoughts  found  utterance. 
He  played  to  Elsa,  and  she  listened  without 
realizing  the  purport  of  his  music,  or  that  she 
might  be  his  ideal  maid.  His  music  thrilled 
her,  but  she  thought  of  the  wonderful  tones  of 
his  violin,  not  of  the  player.  It  seemed  as 
though  her  heart  had  turned  to  stone. 

Uhlheim  was  much  with  them.  His  leisure 
was  spent,  in  reading  or  in  taking  long  walks 
alone.  He  was  not  morbid,  as  Louis  de  Vere  had 
fancied  ;  on  the  contrary,  the  mysterious  voice 
which  he  heard  at  intervals  in  the  woods, 


Il6  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

had  ceased  to  depress  him.  One  clear  night 
he  was  sitting  at  his  study  window  with 
the  casement  open  to  let  in  all  the  air  pos 
sible  ;  for  it  was  sultry.  The  moon  cast  shad 
ows  on  the  lawn  and  silvered  the  spray  of 
the  fountain  on  the  terrace.  The  plashing 
of  the  water  alone  broke  the  silence.  His 
thoughts  were  busy  with  the  past.  He  saw  his 
father,  a  fine  old  Austrian  soldier,  who  had 
risen  to  the  rank  of  general  by  his  own 
valor,  bowed  to  the  dust  by  dishonor.  He 
had  never  reproached  his  father.  His  mother's 
little  fortune,  left  to  him  at  her  death  and  placed 
in  his  father's  hands  for  safe  keeping,  would 
have  sufficed  to  carry  out  his  long  cherished 
plans  of  research  and  travel.  His  father  had 
tried  to  double  it  by  speculation,  and  had  been 
imposed  upon  by  adventurers.  Since  his  inten 
tion  had  been  good,  no  one  should  cast  suspi 
cion  on  his  honesty  because  of  the  unfortunate 
result.  Leopold  had  held  his  father  blameless, 
and  had  cheerfully  given  up  the  last,  penny  of 
his  fortune  to  shield  his  father's  name,  but  the 
humiliation  killed  the  old  man.  Leopold  was 
left  to  begin  life  anew.  Fortunes  are  not  made 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  117 

in  a  day.  Should  he  seek  the  new  world,  or 
accept  a  position  in  his  uncle's  office  at  Ham 
burg  ?  While  hesitating,  Frau  von  Althaus  made 
him  an  offer  which  met  his  favor.  He  did  not 
reject  it.  Victor  was  a  charming  boy,  his  aunt 
an  agreeable  hostess,  the  girls  amiable,  and  his 
position  did  not  prove  as  embarrassing  as  he 
had  imagined  it  might.  All  had  gone  on  smoothly 
until  the  day  when  a  new  element  was  intro 
duced  into  the  household  in  the  person  of  Elsa. 
Then  the  atmosphere  seemed  changed.  Since 
she  was  antagonistic  to  him,  he  need  not  see  her 
except  at  table.  His  intercourse  with  her 
would  have  been  limited  under  any  circum 
stances,  but  his  first  impressions  were  con 
firmed  on  every  possible  occasion  by  the  opin 
ions  she  expressed.  Exquisite  as  a  bit  of 
Sevres,  though  cold  and  soulless,  he  could  not 
forgive  her  for  lacking  the  spirit  essential  to 
make  her  perfect.  She  never  could  thrill  him 
like  the  voice  that  had  fallen  on  his  ear  one 
summer  night  not  long  before.  He  thought 
of  her  as  he  looked  out  over  the  lawn  into  the 
moonlight.  The  clock  struck  eleven  and  the 
watchman  below  the  tower  cried  the  hour  ;  Uhl- 


Il8  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

heim  leaned  forward  to  close  the  casement 
which  was  caught  in  a  vine  outside.  A  burst 
of  sound  filled  the  air  and  hovered  above  his 
head.  It  was  a  wondrous  voice,  so  clear  and 
pure,  breathing  itself  out  in  passionate  tones 
that  fell  upon  his  heart  and  rested  there.  It 
seemed  to  burst  upon  the  summer  air  like 
magic,  and  sang  the  same  melody  as  on  that 
night  when  he  was  journeying  to  Kartlow. 
Until  then  he  had  always  heard  the  voice  in  the 
woods  below  the  pond,  and  its  burden  had  been 
one  of  sadness  and  regret,  but  now  it  was  full 
of  life  and  hope.  He  was  possessed  with  a 
desire  to  stretch  out  his  hands  and  seize  the 
phantom  that  tortured  him  with  dreams  of 
impossible  happiness.  The  woman  who  sang 
thus  must  have  noble  aims  and  strength  of 
purpose.  She  would  breathe  love,  truth,  every 
thing  to  make  life  perfect.  Why  did  she  haunt 
him  and  make  his  life  wretched  with  longing? 
As  he  reached  far  out  of  the  window,  the  song 
was  wafted  more  faintly  from  a  distance.  Its 
quivering  tones  were  dying  on  the  night  air. 
A  nightingale  took  up  its  lament  and  trilled. 
Then  there  was  silence  but  for  the  plashing 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  \  19 

fountain.  There  was  no  sign  of  life  but  the  old 
watchman  standing  below  like  a  sentinel.  Leo 
pold  drew  back  into  the  shadow,  the  moon 
disappeared  behind  a  cloud,  and  all  was  still. 

The  next  morning  Uhlheim  appeared  at 
breakfast  and  drank  his  coffee  in  silence.  Frau- 
lein  von  Rabenhorst  recognized  his  presence 
by  a  formal  bow.  She  seemed  paler  and  colder 
than  ever.  Her  presence  jarred  on  him,  and  he 
withdrew  to  the  seclusion  of  his  study,  without 
delay. 

That  evening,  Frau  von  Althaus,  noticing 
Uhlheim's  absence,  asked  Victor  its  cause. 

"  Study,"  replied  Victor,  ironically.  "  To 
think  that  such  a  wise  man  should  have  to 
study!" 

"  He  must  be  writing  a  romance,"  said  Berthe. 
"  I  always  thought  writing  a  romance  must  be 
a  very  laborious  matter." 

"  No,  it  is  something  profound,  that  requires 
quiet  for  the  brain." 

"  He  used  to  come  down  every  evening  until 
Elsa  came,"  said  Sophie. 

"Of  course;  Elsa  is  a  terrible  personage." 

Elsa  blushed. 


120  THE  MAGIC  OF  A   VOICE. 

11 1  don't  think  my  presence  can  affect  Herr 
Uhlheim.  I  am  sure  we  are  entirely  indifferent 
to  each  other,"  said  Elsa  with  a  superb  air. 

"  Elsa  is  quite  right,"  remarked  Frau  von 
Althaus,  clicking  her  knitting  needles  and  draw 
ing  nearer  the  light.  "  I  don't  think  her  pres 
ence  makes  the  slightest  difference  to  your 
tutor." 

"  Why,  Tante,  Uhlheim  said  the  other  day — 

What  Uhlheim  had  said  was  not  fated  to 
be  repeated,  for  Berthe  promptly  put  her  hand 
over  Victor's  mouth. 

"  Hush  !  "  she  whispered,  for  at  this  juncture 
Uhlheim  entered. 

"What  did  I  say,  my  boy  ?  What  terrible 
secret  were  you  about  to  unfold  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  were  deep  in  that  profound 
work  which  is  to  startle  the  world  some  day." 

"And  that  you  were  safe  in  repeating  my 
ingenuous  remarks.  Well  learn,  then,  that  you 
are  never  safe,  for  I  may  appear  to  confirm  or  dis 
pute  them,  as  the  case  maybe,  at  any  moment. 
What  was  it  ?  " 

A  warning  look  from  Berthe  checked  the 
reply  on  Victor's  lips. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  121 

"  It  was  nothing  of  any  consequence,"  he 
rejoined,  half  embarrassed.  "  Perhaps  I  might 
as  well  tell,  for  you  might  otherwise  think  it  of 
importance.  It  was  only  your  opinion  of 
Elsa." 

Elsa  lifted  her  head  proudly,  and  met  Leo 
pold's  gaze  of  quiet  scrutiny. 

"  It  would  be  presumption  in  me  to  utter  an 
opinion  of  Fraulein  von  Rabenhorst." 

There  was  an  irony  in  his  tone  that  cut 
her  to  the  quick. 

"  Herr  Uhlheim  is  quite  right,  Victor,"  she 
replied,  quietly. 

"There  is  a  barrier  separating  Fraulein  von 
Rabenhorst  and  myself  which  is  impassable." 

"  He  means  that  I  am  beneath  his  notice," 
she  thought,  and  she  bit  her  lips  to  keep  back 
her  rising  temper.  "  What  can  I  do  to  make 
him  think  I  despise  him  ?  " 

"  You  are  very  complimentary,  you  two," 
cried  Victor.  "  I  wish  you  would  be  more 
agreeable  to  each  other." 

"  Herr  Uhlheim  is  here  for  the  purpose  of 
teaching  you,  not  of  being  agreeable  to  me.  It 
is  not  the  slightest  consequence  what  your 


122  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

tutor  thinks  of  me.  For  my  part  I  have  never 
thought  of  him  favorably  or  otherwise." 

Elsa  rose,  gathered  up  her  embroidery,  and 
swept  from  the  room  with  dignity  befitting 
a  queen,  while  Leopold  threw  open  the  doors 
wide  and  made  a  low  bow  as  she  passed  him." 

"  Herr  Uhlheim,  you  must  not  mind  her," 
said  Victor's  aunt  apologetically.  "  Victor  was 
wrong  to  speak  as  he  did." 

"I  didn't  say  any  thing  to  hurt  Elsa.  How 
could  I  know  she  was  touchy  about  Uhlheim." 

"  Touchy !     What  an  expression  !  " 

"  She  is'very  young.  She  has  the  prejudices 
of  her  race.  The  world  will  teach  her  many 
lessons." 

And  Elsa  heard  the  words  from  the  next  room, 
where  she  stood  with  her  head  pressed  against 
the  window  pane  peering  out  into  the  darkness. 
Berthe  and  Sophie  stood  beside  her,  but  she 
answered  their  questions  in  monosyllables. 
Leopold  went  out  on  to  the  veranda.  She 
could  see  him  standing  there  motionless  in  the 
gloom.  A  few  moments  later  she  joined  him. 

"  Herr  Uhlheim,"  slje  said,  "  I  was  rude  to 
you,  and  I  beg  your  pardon.  Victor's  remarks 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  123 

made  me  lose  my  temper.    I  was  wrong.    Will 
you  forget  my  words  ?  " 

There  was  a  new  grace  in  her  manner  which 
he  had  never  seen  before.  Her  eyes  met  his 
with  frankness.  Perhaps  he  had  misjudged 
her. 

"  I  had  already  forgotten,"  he  answered, 
without  hesitation.  "  Why  can  we  not  be 
friends?  "  he  added  impulsively.  "  Why  are  we 
so  hostile  ?  " 

She  drew  back  a  step  and  looked  at  him  in 
surprise,  as  if  he  had  taken  a  liberty,  and  she 
thought : 

"  He  shall  not  triumph  over  me  nor  think  he 
can  command  too  much  when  I  apologized  from 
a  sense  of  justice." 

"Friends?"  she  echoed  coldly.  "  Herr 
Uhlheim,  you  forget  that  there  can  be  no  ques 
tion  of  friendship  between  us." 

She  turned  and  passed  through  the  doorway, 
leaving  him  there  with  resentment  in  his  heart. 
He  was  seized  with  an  impulse  to  crush  her  for 
daring  to  insult  him. 

The  tones  of  Victor's  violin  rose  indistinctly 
from  the  great  salle,  and  he  heard  Frau  von 


124  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

Althaus  calling  him  in  to  evening  prayer. 
Still  he  did  not  move.  He  was  thinking  with 
bitterness  of  the  proud  fair  girl  whom  he  could 
see  through  the  window,  sitting  with  her  face 
turned  away  from  him. 


VII. 

A  MONTH  had  passed  without  any  unusual 
occurrence  to  mark  its  flight.     Elsa  had 
never  been  away  from  Rabenhorst  for  so  long  a 
time. 

Heine  was  engrossed  in  his  especial  pets  the 
storks.  They  had  already  begun  to  know 
him  and  feed  from  his  hand.  The  storks'  nest 
was  on  the  roof  of  the  laundry  near  the  castle. 
This  was  a  tall  stucco  and  brick  building  with 
a  high,  thatched  roof.  By  mounting  a  ladder 
and  creeping  through  a  window  under  the 
rafters,  one  could  readily  reach  the  nest  on  the 
roof.  Many  hours  he  passed  there  with  the 
old  storks  and  their  little  ones,  while  Elsa  was 
wandering  through  the  woods  or  driving 
through  the  wheat  fields  with  Victor  and  his 
sisters.  One  afternoon  in  September  Berthe 
came  running  out  to  the  veranda  where  they 
were  all  sitting,  and  Sophie  was  serving  cof 
fee. 


126  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"The  Waldbecks  are  coming  in  their  new 
carriage,"  she  cried. 

"  Four  outriders  at  least,"  said  Donna. 

"The  new  carriage  with  four  horses,  the  fine 
harness  and  two  footmen  in  new  liveries,"  con 
tinued  Berthe,  with  wide  open  eyes. 

"  What  magnificence  to  waste  on  us  !  Why 
isn't  there  a  prince  here  ?  Uhlheim,  you  look 
like  one.  The  Fates  made  a  mistake  in  not 
labeling  you." 

"Thank  you.  It  is  more  of  an  honor  to  be 
one  of  nature's  noblemen." 

"  Go  quickly  and  receive  them,  Victor,"  said 
Frau  von  Althaus. 

"  As  you  command,  illustrious  Tante,  lend 
me  your  dignity  for  the  occasion." 

He  went  out  with  Uhlheim,  and  soon 
returned  with  Frau  von  Waldbeck,  followed 
by  the  two  girls. 

They  were  resplendent  in  the  latest  Berlin 
fashions.  Frau  von  Waldbeck's  bonnet  was 
plentifully  trimmed  with  real  Duchesse  lace, 
and  a  dainty  humming  bird  hovered  above  her 
placid  brow,  as  though  about  to  alight.  The 
girls  were  attired  in  foulard  silk  with  very  long 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  ^2^ 

and  pinched-in  waists.  They  stood  painfully 
erect  and  spoke  with  a  drawl,  which  in  Johanna 
seemed  natural  but  in  Matilda  out  of  place. 

Every  one  rose  to  receive  them,  and  the 
young  people  kissed  the  elder  lady's  hand. 

"  To  think  I  should  have  been  back  a  week," 
whispered  Matilda  to  Donna,  "  and  not  have 
seen  you  !  I  have  so  much  to  tell  you." 

"  Give  Frau  von  Waldbeck  a  cup  of  coffee," 
said  Frau  von  Althaus.  "  She  must  be  thirsty 
after  this  long  drive." 

"  Johanna  !  " 

"  Yes,  mamma." 

"Take  the  cup  from  Sophie." 

"Yes,  mamma,"  answered  the  automaton 
obediently. 

"  Matilda,  it  isn't  necessary  for  you  to 
destroy  that  footstool.  Why  can't  you  sit 
still.  I  don't  think  your  sojourn  with  your 
grandmother  has  improved  you." 

Matilda  blushed. 

"  I  think  Matilda  looks  very  well,"  remarked 
Frau  von  Althaus.  "  She  is  growing  to  be 
quite  a  woman." 

"Do  you  think  so  ?" 


138  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

Matilda  looked  up  eagerly  with  a  wistful 
glance.  "  I  am  very  glad." 

"  Don't  be  so  demonstrative.  Although  you 
are  sixteen,  you  are  as  restless  as  a  child  of  six. 
Why  don't  you  imitate  your  sister  Johanna?" 

Johanna  smiled  complacently.  She  was 
never  ruffled  ;  but  Matilda  cast  down  her  eyes. 

"  I  will  take  Matilda  to  walk,"  said  Donna 
quickly.  "  We  shall  go  as  far  as  the  island,  the 
seat  under  the  tree  is  visible  .from  here,  and  if 
you  want  us,  we  shall  see  you  beckon." 

"  Do  let  me,  mamma!  " 

"  Well,  then,  go." 

They  needed  no  second  bidding,  but  wan 
dered  off  down  the  walk,  talking  earnestly 
together. 

"  See  what  Johanna  bought  with  some  of 
her  convent  money,"  said  Berthe,  holding  up  a 
very  handsome  cut  glass  vinaigrette  with  a 
silver  stopper  on  which  her  monogram  and 
coronet  were  engraved. 

"  Do  you  intend  to  have  Johanna  enter  the 
convent?"  asked  Frau  von  Althaus. 

"  No,  I  intend  her  to  marry,"  answered 
Johanna's  mother,  looking  approvingly  at  the 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  129 

eldest  of  her  progeny,  who  was  languidly  sniff 
ing  the  vinaigrette. 

"  It  must  be  such  a  bore  to  live  with  a  lot  of 
old  women  in  a  kind  of  old  women's  home, 
where  a  cow  and  a  pig  are  allowed  as  house 
hold  pets,  and  flirtation  with  the  rector  may  be 
indulged  in  as  a  mild  dissipation." 

"Victor!" 

His  aunt  held  up  her  hands  in  horror. 

"  Oh  !  that's  not  bad,"  remarked  Johanna's 
mother,  nodding  her  stately  head.  "  I  had  no 
idea  you  were  so  clever.  Are  these  doctrines 
of  your  teaching,  Herr  Uhlheim?  They  are 
very  unorthodox.  Really,  Victor,  you  are 
improving." 

Frau  von  Waldbeck  smiled  sarcastically. 
Johanna,  who  had  joined  the  other  girls  stand 
ing  on  the  terrace  by  the  fountain,  looked  up 
and  asked  if  she  might  take  a  walk ;  her 
mother  nodded  her  permission,  and  they  all 
strolled  leisurely  toward  the  tennis  court. 

"  I  take  no  credit  for  inculcating  such  ideas 
into  his  head.  I  was  brought  up  a  Romanist, 
and  think  it  rather  unfair  that  the  convents 
should  have  become  spoils  of  war,  to  enrich 


130  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

you  at  our  expense.  However,  as  Victor  says, 
they  are  a  refuge  for  old  maids." 

"  There  ought  to  be  an  old  man's  home, 
where  we  could  be  pensioned  off,"  said  the 
Irrepressible.  "  The  girls  have  all  the  advant 
age." 

"  But  for  this  boon  one  must  have  been  noble 
for  sixteen  generations.  That  is  a  penalty  to 
pay." 

"Do  you  think  so,  Herr  Uhlheim  ?  I  sup 
pose  you  are  intensely  radical,"  returned  Frau 
von  Waldbeck,  in  a  patronizing  tone.  "  It 
is  usually  considered  an  advantage  in  Mecklen 
burg.  Perhaps  we  are  too  conservative  here !" 

"  Fortunately,  Mecklenburg  is  a  small  part  of 
the  world,"  retorted  Uhlheim.  "  Its  prejudices 
are  not  shared  by  all  countries." 

"  I'm  sure,"  interpolated  Victor,  "  America  is 
not  much  better,  although  it  is  the  land  of  the 
free.  I  met  an  American  boy  at  school 
last  year  who  was  as  proud  of  his  arms  and 
seal  as  any  of  us,  and  could  give  you  a  line 
of  ancestors  for  at  least  sixteen  generations. 
He  wouldn't  speak  to  a  fellow  there,  also  an 
American,  whose  father,  although  a  nabob, 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  131 

had  the  misfortune  to  possess  an  ancestor 
who  was  a  junk  dealer." 

"Those  are  exceptions,  and  because  some 
men  are  fools  you  must  not  judge  the  masses 
by  them.  The  principle  of  America,  equality, 
is  the  right  one.  See  how  our  people  develop 
after  a  few  years  of  emigration.  It  is  the  free 
air  they  breathe." 

"  I  wish  it  did  not  agree  with  them  so  well," 
responded  Frau  von  Waldbeck.  "Our  estates 
are  getting  quite  depopulated  by  this  outflow. 
After  all,  why  should  the  good  people  leave 
certainty  for  uncertainty  ?  They  are  well  cared 
for  by  us,  and  pensioned  off  when  they  are  old 
and  no  longer  able  to  work." 

"  This  argument  was  used  by  the  South  in 
regard  to  their  slaves  before  the  Civil  War  in 
America." 

"  But  surely  you  do  not  consider  our  people 
slaves,  Herr  Uhlheim?"  cried  Frau  von  Wald 
beck,  indignantly. 

"  No.  They  have  the  remedy  of  emigration 
open  to  them,"  was  the  quick  reply. 

The  tower  clock  struck  five  at  this  juncture, 
and  Victor  hastily  pulled  out  his  watch. 


I32  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"  Come,  Herr  Uhlheim,  it  is  time  we  should 
start  if  we  are  to  meet  M.  de  Vere  at  the 
station.  I  am  quite  sure  your  talk  is  get 
ting  too  revolutionary  for  Frau  von  Wald- 
beck." 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  amuses  me.  Such  ideas 
are  novel,  though  dangerous  to  our  people.  It 
would  never  do  to  let  Herr  Uhlheim  loose 
among  them.  They  would  follow  him  to  what 
they  call  'the  promised  land'  like  sheep." 

"  No  fear  of  that,"  replied  Uhlheim,  rising. 
"  I  am  far  too  lazy  to  lead,  even  if  I  had  the 
power.  Good  afternoon,  then,  since  Victor 
drags  me  away." 

The  two  men  disappeared  through  the  door 
way  into  the  house. 

"  What  an  extraordinary  man  your  new  tutor 
is,"  remarked  Frau  von  Waldbeck,  after  they 
had  gone.  "You  look  distraite,  Henriette, and 
you  have  not  said  a  word  this  half  hour.  Your 
thoughts  can't  be  engrossed  in  that  stocking 
you  are  knitting?  " 

Frau  von  Althaus  roused  herself  with  a 
sigh. 

"  No,"  she  answered.     "  I  was   wondering  if 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  133 

what  Herr  Uhlheim  said  might  not  be  true, 
and  whether  we  did  our  duty  by  our  peo- 
pie." 

"  They  were  born  stupid,  my  dear,  and  were 
intended  for  beasts  of  burden.  Do  you  think 
the  dear  Lord  made  us  all  equal?  Don't 
dwell  on  the  utterances  of  that  radical.  He 
comes  of  the  people,  does  he  not?  It  is 
natural  for  him  to  take  the  other  side,  not  being 
one  of  us.  All  jealousy!  Offer  him  a  title  and 
see  how  quickly  he  will  jump  at  it.  He  looks 
well  bred,  though,  really  quite  a  gentleman. 
Who  is  he  ?  Of  course  he  is  not  an  ordinary 
tutor.  Don't  you  think  his  revolutionary  ideas 
may  unsettle  Victor?" 

"  Victor's  nature  will  not  permit  him  to  grasp 
any  thing  very  revolutionary,"  was  the  reply. 
Frau  von  Althaus  evaded  the  question  regard 
ing  Uhlheim's  personal  history,  as  it  had  been 
agreed  that  his  past  should  be  ignored,  and  his 
position  should  be  regarded  as  that  of  any 
ordinary  tutor  in  the  family. 

"  I  shall  ask  him  to  come  to  Waldruh  some 
one  of  these  days.  I  will  consult  him  about  a 
college  for  Otto.  He  is  certainly  very  enter- 


134  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

taining,  but  I  shall  take  good  care  that  he  does 
not  talk  too  much  to  Johanna." 

"  I  should  think  it  wiser,"  remarked  the  other 
quietly. 

Meanwhile  Donna  and  Matilda  wandered 
over  the  lawn  to  the  little  bridge  leading  to  the 
island.  The  swans  swam  up  to  the  bank,  but 
Matilda  had  no  bread  ;  for  the  first  time  they 
had  been  forgotten.  She  hurried  across  the 
bridge,  clasping  Donna's  hand,  and  looked  up 
nervously  toward  the  Schloss. 

"  Donna,  dear,"  she  whispered,  as  they  seated 
themselves  under  the  trees,  "  tell  me  if  what 
Tante  Henriette  said  is  true  ?  Do  I  look  older, 
and  am  I  growing  to  be  a  woman?  " 

"  You  are  like  a  rose-bud,  and  don't  look  one 
day  older  than  you  really  are.  Why?" 

A  look  of  disappointment  overspread  the 
child's  face. 

"Ah,  well !  I  shall  grow  older  some  day." 

"Yes,  we  hope  so,"  returned  Donna,  smiling 
at  her  earnestness. 

"You  have  always  been  my  friend.  You 
won't  desert  me  now.  Oh  !  Donna,  if  mamma 
should  know!  " 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  135 

She  closed  her  eyes  and  shuddered. 

"  What  is  it?  "  exclaimed  Donna,  alarmed  at 
her  manner.  "  You  naughty  child,  you  frighten 
me!" 

"  Hush  !  Surely  no  one  can  hear  us  !  " 

"  No  one." 

"Oh  !  Donna,  how  shall  I  tell  you  ! " 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  Donna 
drew  them  away  and  clasped  them  in  hers. 

"  Matilda,  trust  me." 

Her  voice  was  fraught  with  tenderness. 

"  Donna,  have  you  ever  been  in  love?" 

"Have  I  ever  been  in  love?"  echoed  Donna. 
"  Oh  !  Matilda,  have  you  been  doing  any  thing 
rash  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  am  frightened." 

"Tell  me,  quickly." 

"  You  know  I  went  to  my  grandmother  at 
Potsdam  to  prepare  for  my  confirmation,  because 
mamma  did  not  think  Pastor  Miiller  the  right 
person  to  instruct  me.  The  first  week  of  my 
stay  I  was  lonely.  The  house  was  grand  and 
gloomy.  Grandmamma  was  in  her  room  almost 
all  day,  and  although  I  drove  in  the  park  with 
her  and  sometimes  read  to  her  in  the  evening, 


I36  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

it  was  very  dull.  At  the  beginning  of  the  sec 
ond  week,  when  I  was  dying  of  ennui,  for 
grandmamma's  pastor  was  fully  as  stupid  as 
Pastor  Mu'ller,  I  saw  an  old  friend  whom  I  had 
met  at  Carlsbad  last  year.  Her  name  was 
Janette,  and  she  was  a  bright,  vivacious  French 
girl,  dark  and  beautiful.  She  lived  next 
us.  To  tell  the  truth  I  spent  a  great  deal 
of  time  there  without  grandmamma's  knowl 
edge,  for  she  was  a  Romanist,  and  mamma  would 
not  have  permitted  it,  especially  at  that  time. 
She  was  so  lovely,  Donna,  so  affectionate  and 
different  from  any  one  here  except  you.  There 
was  an  abbe  at  their  house.  When  he  heard 
what  brought  me  to  Potsdam,  he  talked  to  me 
about  religion.  He  was  gentle  and  winning, 
explaining  every  thing  in  such  a  charming  way 
as  though  all  my  questions  were  rational  and 
not  the  result  of  stupidity.  Janette  was  very 
devout,  and  went  often  to  mass.  One  morning 
I  accompanied  her  to  confession.  I  was  so  sad, 
for  there  was  a  burden  on  my  heart  that  seemed 
too  heavy  to  bear.  While  I  waited,  I  saw  a 
poor  woman  go  into  the  confessional  with  a 
face  so  full  of  woe  that  it  stirred  my  sympathy. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  137 

Soon  she  came  out  again  ;  her  face  was  trans 
figured,  and  I  thought  what  a  blessed  relief  her 
confession  must  have  been  to  her.  A  great 
longing  came  over  me  to  cast  off  this  load 
on  my  heart,  and  before  I  thought,  I  found 
myself  on  my  knees  in  the  confessional,  sobbing 
as  if  my  heart  would  break.  From  the  other 
side  of  the  grating  came  the  soft  consoling 
voice  of  the  abbe,  whom  I  had  met  at  Janette's. 
I  poured  forth  all  my  sorrows.  I  prayed  him 
to  give  me  my  mother's  love,  which  I  had 
longed  for  in  vain  all  my  life.  Oh !  the  relief 
of  this  confession  you  can  not  imagine.  Then 
he  spoke  gentle  words  of  comfort  and  absolu 
tion  and  turned  me  to  the  Mother  of  God  for 
the  love  denied  me  by  my  living  mother. 
He  said  that  some  day  my  prayer  would  be 
answered.  Since  then  I  have  been  happy. 
Ah !  Were  it  only  that  I  had  become  a  Roman 
Catholic  I  could  be  content,  but  there  u 
another  secret  which  oppresses  me  and  involves 
obstacles  hard  to  overcome.  Donna,  Janette 
has  a  brother.  I  won't  tell  you  about  him, 
because  you  will  see  him  soon  and  can  judge  for 
yourself.  I  love  him.  That  is  all.  I  saw  him 


138  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

constantly  when  I  was  with  Janette.  I  know 
that  it  was  very  wrong,  but  I  could  not 
help  it. 

"This  love  was  stronger  than  my  will.  I  fear 
our  love  is  hopeless,  for  he  has  no  money,  and 
Johanna  must  marry  first.  He  is  coming  to 
Mecklenburg  soon  to  speak  to  mamma,  but  she 
will  never  forgive  me  for  loving  without  her 
consent,  and  she  will  kill  me  when  she  hears  that 
I  have  become  a  Roman  Catholic."  Matilda 
paused.  "  Don't  be  angry  with  me,  Donna," 
she  pleaded,  mistaking  Donna's  silence  for  dis 
approval.  "  I  could  not  help  it.  If  only  mamma 
had  been  less  harsh  to  me,  I  should  not  have 
felt  such  need  for  the  Mother  of  God.  Mam 
ma's  coldness  is  my  cross,  but  I  pray  to  the 
Sainte  Vierge  for  her  night  and  day,  and  the 
Good  Mother  will  hear  my  prayer  and  turn  her 
heart  toward  me." 

Matilda  uttered  these  last  words  with 
passionate  intensity.  Donna  stroked  the  fair 
head  leaning  against  her  knee. 

"  Poor  little  girl !  "  she  murmured. 

"  No,  Donna,  not  poor.  I  was  alone,  but  I 
am  alone  no  longer.  Louis  is  so  handsome, 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  139 

noble  and  brave.  He  wasn't  at  all  afraid  to 
meet  mamma." 

"  Was  he  not  ?  She  is  yet  the  unknown 
quantity.  He  may  be  petrified  when  he  sees 
her.  Oh  !  my  little  girl,  what  have  you  been 
doing  ?  What  mischief  have  you  been  brewing 
for  your  little  self,  for  when  mamma  hears  this 
tale  I  fear  your  joy  will  be  of  short  dura 
tion." 

"  I  can  bear  any  thing  but  separation  from 
him.  That  would  kill  me." 

Matilda  hid  her  face  in  Donna's  dress. 

"  One  does  not  die  so  easily,"  she  answered, 
somewhat  bitterly. 

"Will  you  tell  her?" 

"  I !  No.  Let  the  man  who  has  captured 
your  wayward  little  heart  undertake  that  mis 
sion." 

"  And  you  are  not  angry  with  me  ?  " 

"  For  falling  in  love?  No.  That  is  the  fate 
of  foolish  little  things  like  you." 

"  But  for  becoming  a  Roman  Catholic  ?  " 
Her  sweet  voice  fell. 

"  Ah  !  Matilda,"  answered  Donna,  gravely. 
"  One  form  of  religion  differs  little  from 


140  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

another,  and  God  will  hear  your  prayers,  sweet 
heart,  whatever  church  sanctions  them." 

"  Mamma  will  not  think  so." 

"  No,  mamma  will  not." 

"  I  am  so  happy ! "  exclaimed  Matilda, 
drawing  a  long  breath.  "  All  my  life  the  love 
in  my  heart  has  been  repressed." 

"  Regulated  by  etiquette,  darling." 

"  But  now — it  knows  no  bounds." 

"  See  !"  cried  Matilda,  jumping  up  suddenly 
and  pointing  toward  the  house.  "  There  comes 
Victor  and  with  him — no — it  is  impossible." 
Donna  had  stooped  to  pick  a  bunch  of  lilies 
and  was  pinning  them  in  her  belt. 

Victor  was  approaching  across  the  lawn 
with  a  fair  man,  of  distinguished  bearing. 

"Look!"  exclaimed  Matilda,  clasping  her 
hands.  "  It  is  he.  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  he 
was  handsome?  He  has  come  for  me." 

But  Donna  did  not  answer.  She  was  lean 
ing  against  the  great  chestnut  tree,  her  face  as 
pale  as  the  lilies  in  her  hand. 

"No,  Matilda,"  she  gasped,  "not  he!  It 
can  not  be !  There  must  be  some  mis 
take  ! " 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  141 

"It  is  Louis  de  Vere,  my  fiance.  Donna, 
why  do  you  look  at  me  so  strangely?  " 

Donna  drew  herself  up  with  an  effort  and 
passed  her  hand  over  her  eyes. 

"  It  can  not  be,"  she  murmured.  "  Tell  me 
his  name  again." 

"  It  is  Count  Louis  de  Vere.  Why  do  you 
ask?" 

"  He  looks  like  some  one  I  knew  long  ago," 
the  pale  lips  murmured  mechanically. 

Victor  and  the  Count  de  Vere  were  already 
on  the  bridge. 

"  Where  have  you  and  Matilda  hidden  your 
selves?  Let  me  present  the  Count  de  Vere, 
Fraulein  von  Konigsmark,  Fraulein  von  Wald- 
beck,  the  Count  de  Vere." 

"  I  have  met  M.  de  Vere  before,  in  Berlin," 
said  Matilda  shyly. 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  Fraulein  von  Waldbeck 
to  remember  me,"  he  answered  somewhat 
formally.  Then  he  turned  to  Donna  with  a 
ceremonious  bow.  Their  eyes  met  and  the 
pallor  of  her  face  was  reflected  in  his  own. 

"  Fraulein  von  Konigsmark,"  he  said,  as  if 
waiting  for  her  to  recognize  him.  "  Did  I  not 


142  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

have    the  pleasure    of   meeting   you  with  the 
late  Princess  Caroline  a  year  ago  ?" 

"I  do  not  recollect,"  she  replied  with  cutting 
emphasis.  "  A  year  is  a  long  time  and  I  have 
met  so  many  people." 


VIII. 

THEY  went  up  the  graveled  walk  toward 
the  house,  Matilda  chatting  artlessly 
to  Louis  de  Vere,  while  Donna  walked 
beside  Victor  and  responded  listlessly  to 
his  sallies.  After  supper  the  Waldbecks 
drove  away.  M.  de  Vere  had  evidently  made 
an  agreeable  impression  on  Matilda's  mother, 
for  she  was  pleased  to  express  herself  most 
graciously  about  him,  and  little  Matilda  was  in 
a  flutter  of  excitement.  Her  mother  had 
exacted  a  promise  of  an  early  visit  from  the 
Strahls,  including  especially  Uhlheim  and  Mon 
sieur  de  Vere.  Already  Matilda  saw  her  dream 
realized,  herself  forgiven,  and  her  happiness 
insured.  Donna's  horse  was  saddled  and  led 
forth.  She  patted  his  neck  and  nodded  in  a 
haughty  way  to  the  Count  de  Vere.  As  she 
rode  away  followed  by  her  groom,  Uhlheim 
and  de  Vere  passed  through  the  salon  where 


144  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

Victor  was  playing  cat's  cradle  with  Berthe, 
unmindful  of  the  jeers  of  his  elder  sister.  The 
lamps  lighted  the  veranda  dimly,  and  the  forest 
loomed  up  dense  and  black  beyond  the  lake 
which  gleamed  in  the  light  of  the  moon  as  they 
strolled  out  over  the  lawn  into  the  wood-path. 

"  W  hat  is  the  matter,  Louis  ?  "  said  Uhlheim, 
abruptly.  "Where  is  your  cynicism?  I 
thought  you  had  a  great  deal  to  waste  on  me, 
but  I  find  your  spirit  crushed.  What  is  the 
matter?  " 

Count  de  Vere  passed  his  hand  over  his 
brow. 

"  It  seems  like  a  dream,  Leopold,"  he  mur 
mured  at  last.  "  Am  I  really  with  you  ?  Am  I 
here  in  Mecklenburg  ?  Speak,  let  me  hear 
your  voice." 

Uhlheim  seized  him  by  the  arm. 

"  What  is  it,  Louis,  tell  me  ?  " 

Louis  de  Vere's  face  was  white  with  emotion. 

"  I  am  a  fool.     It  is  the  old,  old  story — " 

"Es  ist  eine  alte  Geschichte 

Doch  bleibt  sie  immer  neu 
Und  wem  sie  just  passieret 

Dem  bricht  das  Herz  entzwei." 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  145 

"  Cheer  up,  old  man,  your  heart  is  made  of 
stronger  stuff  than  that.  Tell  me  all  about  it. 
I  don't  believe  it  is  so  bad  !  " 

"  What  right  have  you,  who  are  in  love  with 
a  shadow,  to  talk  to  me  ?  I  loved,  I  trusted  and 
I  was  deceived.  That  is  all ;  and  the  experi 
ence  is  not  an  agreeable  one,  nor  the  process 
entirely  free  from  pain.  Ah !  fool  that  I  was 
to  trust  a  woman  !  " 

"  Tell  me  about  the  woman,  and  I  can  judge 
better  whether  you  apostrophized  yourself  cor 
rectly." 

"  It  is  Donna  von  Konigsmark — " 

"  Donna  von  Konigsmark  !  "  ejaculated  Uhl- 
heim  in  surprise. 

"You  are  surprised!  I  met  her  last  sum 
mer  when  she  was  with  the  Princess  at  Carls 
bad.  I  loved  her.  I  half  declared  myself,  and 
I  fancied  she  returned  my  love.  I  was  a  con 
ceited  ass.  She  was  cynical  about  men,  as  she 
had  seen  something  of  the  world  while  travel 
ing  with  the  princess.  I  had  no  money.  She 
was  not  an  heiress,  but  that  mattered  little,  for 
I  was  expecting  promotion,  and  if  we  waited  we 
might  still  marry.  When  we  parted  I  spoke 


I4&  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

openly  and  explained  my  position.  She  listened, 
confessed  her  love  for  me  and  her  willingness 
to  wait ;  still  I  would  not  bind  her.  I  left  her 
free  to  marry  whom  she  chose.  We  were  not  to 
meet  nor  to  write,  but  we  each  promised  truth 
to  the  other.  Listen  to  the  sequel.  Last  May 
I  heard  that  she  was  engaged  to  young  Blucher 
of  Felsenstein,  a  man  with  no  brains,  but  rich, 
of  course,  as  Croesus." 

Uhlheim  uttered  an  exclamation,  but  Louis 
continued  :  "  Hear  me  out.  I  have  nearly 
done.  She  was  free  to  do  as  she  liked.  I  did 
not  blame  her.  It  is  the  way  of  women  now-a- 
days  to  sell  themselves  to  the  highest  bidder. 
To  make  a  long  story  short,  I  rushed  wildly 
into  dissipation.  I  loved  her.  I  could  not  for 
get  her,  and  the  more  I  tried  to  drown  my  sor 
row  the  more  distinctly  she  rose  before  me,  as 
if  to  mock  me.  One  day,  it  was  only  a  month 
ago,  I  met  little  Matilda  von  Waldbeck  at  my 
sister's  house  in  Berlin.  She  is  as  innocent 
and  fresh  as  a  rose.  She  charmed  me,  and 
I  won  her  confidence.  Almost  before  I  realized 
it,  she  had  given  me  her  simple  child's  heart 
without  a  question.  Leopold,  I  came  here  to  see 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  147 

her  parents.  I  met  that  faithless  girl  face  to 
face  and  she  cut  me — she  cut  me." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  rejoined  Uhlheim  coolly.  "  For 
it  is  her  sister  Lita  who  is  engaged  to  Bliicher 
of  Felsenstein. 

"  Her  sister  Lita  !  "  exclaimed  Louis  de  Vere 
in  amazement. 

"Donna  is  to  all  appearances  as  free  as  the 
wind  and  as  incredulous  of  man's  sincerity  as 
ever.  My  dear  fellow,  you  have  made  a  fool  of 
yourself." 

"  She  is  free  and  I  thought  her  false.  I  must 
see  her  at  once  and  explain  all." 

"And  Matilda  !"  rejoined  Uhlheim  quietly. 

"Matilda!  This  is  a  frightful  dilemma. 
What  is  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  Don't  ask  me." 

"You  are  not  sympathetic,  but  this  comes  of 
being  in  love  with  an  intangible  being,  a  voice. 
What  is  your  state  of  mind  now  ?  " 

"  My  trouble  is  less  serious  than  yours,"  re 
plied  Uhlheim,  noticing  Louis's  forced  com 
posure.  "  I  wrote  you  under  a  momentary 
impression." 

"  Do  you  hear  it  now  ?  " 


148  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"Yes." 

"  Where  ?  " 

"Here!" 

"  Here  in  these  woods  ?  " 

"Yes." 

Louis  de  Vere  laughed, 

"  You  are  insane.  Does  any  one  else  hear  it  ?  " 

"  I  have  spoken  of  it  to  no  one  but  you. 
Listen  !  " 

The  breeze  bore  a  low  tone  of  music  to 
their  ears,  louder  it  grew  until  the  air  was  filled 
with  melody. 

"  It  is  unearthly,"  exclaimed  Louis  de  Vere 
with  a  shudder.  "  That  is  no  human  voice." 

As  they  moved  toward  the  house,  it  echoed 
through  the  air  and  died  a\vay.  A  burst  of 
mocking  laughter  followed. 

"  That  is  living,"  observed  the  Frenchman. 
"  That  is  no  phantom." 

A  white  robed  figure  flitted  across  the 
veranda  like  a  spirit,  and  a  glare  of  light  fell 
across  the  open  doorway  as  it  disappeared 
within. 

"  Who  was  that?"  asked  Louis,  of  his  silent 
companion. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  149 

"  Fraulein  von  Rabenhorst." 

"  I  have  not  met  her." 

"  No,  she  was  away  when  you  came." 

Uhlheim  stopped  in  the  pathway  and  took 
Louis  by  the  arm. 

"  Say  nothing  about  this  voice,  Louis.  Since 
you  have  heard  it  I  am  convinced  that  it  is  not 
hallucination.  Some  day  I  shall  understand  it 
better,  but  now ' 

He  turned  abruptly.  Elsa  appeared  in  the 
tower  window  talking  to  Victor. 

"  And  you  pass  that  girl  by,  with  her  grace 
and  delicate  beauty,  for  a  voice  ?  "  cried  his  com 
panion. 

Uhlheim  smiled  scornfully. 

"  She  is  only  a  beautiful  shell.  There 
is  no  spirit  dwelling  there,  Louis  ;  she  could 
never  embody  the  voice  that  haunts  me.  No 
living  woman  could  utter  such  sounds.  Don't 
talk  to  me  of  Elsa  von  Rabenhorst.  I  detest 
her."  • 

"  The  feeling  is  dangerous,  mon  ami,"  argued 
his  friend.  "  Don't  cultivate  it.  Indifference 
alone  is  safe.  Sometimes  hate  is  the  forerunner 
of  love." 


1 50  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"Never!     Never!  "  ejaculated  Uhlheim  with 

vehemence. 

•*  *  •*  •*  •* 

Little  Matilda  von  Waldbeck  stood  in  the 
window  of  her  room  at  Waldruh  looking 
out  wistfully  at  the  drizzling  rain.  Her  hair 
was  neatly  braided  and  tied  with  a  blue  ribbon, 
and  she  had  on  a  blue  dress  with  a  ribbon  at 
her  belt.  She  had  put  it  on  with  joyous  antici 
pation  which  was  crushed  by  the  unfriendly 
weather. 

The  Strahls  were  coming  from  Kartlow,  the 
Strahls  and  one  other.  She  hardly  dared  to 
think,  much  less  to  speak  his  name.  They  had 
promised  to  drive  over  that  afternoon.  Oh, 
if  the  clouds  would  only  lift,  she  knew  they 
would  come.  She  had  tried  hard  to  be  very 
good  at  her  lessons  and  had  practiced  Mendels- 
sohns'  "  Spinnlied  "  until  her  head  ached. 

Her  mother  had  listened  and  nodded  ap 
proval.  She  was  quite  sure  of  being  asked  to 
play,  and  although  Johanna  always  played  with 
out  a  fault,  some  said  without  expression, 
Elsa  thought  that  a  phrase  from  her  ringers 
was  worth  a  whole  sonata  from  Johanna's  ;  but 


THE  MA  GIC  OF  A   VOICE.  \  5  r 

Elsa  loved  her  and  was  partial.  She  wished  to 
play  the  "  Brautlied  "  from  Lohengrin,  because 
it  would  be  suggestive.  She  must  school  her 
self  to  look  down  and  not  meet  Louis's  eye.  He 
must  devote  himself  to  mamma.  If  only 
mamma  would  not  treat  her  like  a  child,  she 
thought  and  sighed ;  but  there  was  no  use  in 
hoping ;  the  clouds  would  not  lift,  and  her 
pleasure  would  be  spoiled.  She  turned  away 
to  her  neat  little  boudoir.  Close  beside  the 
white  porcelain  stove  was  placed  a  stiff  chaise 
longue,  and  in  front  of  it  a  table  covered  with 
books  and  knick-knacks.  A  fur  rug  covered 
the  polished  floor.  Beside  her  little  mahogany 
bed,  piled  high  with  pillows  and  eider-down 
covering,  stood  a  simple  wash-stand  and  bu 
reau.  These  and  a  great  wardrobe  completed 
the  furniture  of  the  apartment.  She  drew 
the  red  silk  curtains  over  the  lattice  window, 
to  shut  out  the  gloomy  day,  and  in  turning 
back  her  hand  brushed  against  a  cabinet  hang 
ing  on  the  wall,  and  touched  a  spring  which 
opened  its  doors,  exposing  to  view  a  beauti 
fully  carved  ivory  crucifix.  Then,  with  an  ex 
pression  of  faith  almost  angelic  in  its  purity, 


152  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

she  fell  on  her  knees  in  prayer.  In  a  few  mo 
ments  a  determined  footstep  echoed  along  the 
corridor.  Matilda  rose  hastily,  closed  the 
cabinet,  and  stood  awaiting  her  visitor. 

The  door  opened  to  admit  Johanna. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  she  asked  suspi 
ciously.  "  Mamma  wants  you." 

"  I  am  coming  at  once." 

"  You  are  to  go  down  on  the  veranda  with 
your  embroidery  to  join  Fraulein." 

"And  you?" 

"  Oh,  I  am  to  sit  with  mamma  in  the  salon. 
I  have  not  been  writing  mysterious  notes  to 
girls  older  than  myself,  which  I  would  not  ex 
plain." 

Matilda  blushed. 

"  You  found  the  note  !  It  was  unkind  to  tell." 

Johanna  put  on  an  air  of  prim  virtue. 

"  Matilda,  it  was  my  duty." 

"  To  act  as  tell-tale  ?  " 

"  Mamma  does  not  wish  you  to  be  intimate 
with  Donna.  She  is  much  older,  and  it  is  not 
proper." 

"  Donna  could  not  teach  me  any  thing  im 
proper." 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  153 

''What  did  you  mean,"  said  Johanna,  com 
ing  a  step  nearer,  "  by  writing,  '  Donna,  don't 
breathe  a  word  of  what  I  told  you — no  one 
must  know  it  yet '  ?  What  is  this  mystery  ? 
Tell  me  ;  I  think  you  might,  for  I  am  your  sister." 

"  The  note  was  left  in  Donna's  book  for  her. 
It  was  dishonorable  in  you  to  open  it." 

"  I  took  the  book  to  Donna,  but  the  note  to 
mamma,  because  I  knew  it  was  for  your  good. 
There  is  no  use  in  being  rebellious.  Mamma 
won't  forgive  you  unless  you  are  penitent.  It 
pays  to  be  penitent,"  added  the  elder  sister 
philosophically.  "  Mamma  says  she  won't  let 
you  go  to  Kartlow  again  for  a  month." 

Matilda  uttered  an  exclamation. 

"That  hurts,  does  it?  Well,  be  penitent. 
Don't  forget  my  advice.  Tell  mamma  that  you 
are  very  sorry,  and  she  may  forgive  you.  Con 
fide  your  secret  to  me,  and  I  will  use  my  influ 
ence." 

Matilda  pressed  her  hand  against  her  beat 
ing  heart.  She  was  very  pale. 

"  I  will  not  tell ! "  she  exclaimed  passion 
ately ;  "and  I  will  not  lie.  I  am  not  penitent! 
This  is  tyranny." 


154  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

Johanna  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

At  that  moment  the  sun  burst  from  behind 
the  clouds  and  illumined  the  green  forest. 

"  Ah  !  the  sun  shines  !  "  cried  Matilda  joy 
fully  ;  and  all  her  grief  was  forgotten.  She 
threw  open  the  casement  and  listened  to  the 
singing  of  the  birds,  while  Johanna  looked  at 
her  inquiringly. 

"  What  shall  I  tell  mamma  ?  "  she  asked  on 
the  threshold. 

"  Then  you  did  come  from  mamma,  after  all !  " 

Johanna  reddened  under  her  look  of  con 
tempt. 

"  Not  directly." 

"  Tell  her  that  I  shall  explain  some  time  soon, 
but  not  to-day — and  yes — Johanna,  tell  mamma 
that  I  am  sorry  that  I  vexed  her.  I  am  truly 
sorry.  Oh  !  if  she  would  only  be  kind  to  me  !  " 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  Johan 
na  turned  to  go. 

"  Silly  thing ! "  she  ejaculated,  as  she  shut  the 
door. 

Her  mother  would  forbid  her  going  to 
Kartlow  for  a  month  !  That  was  a  terrible 
punishment,  for  Louis  would  be  gone  long 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  155 

before  the  period  expired,  and  she  was  not 
allowed  to  communicate  with  Donna.  But  then 
the  sun  was  shining.  Sufficient  unto  the  day 
was  the  joy  thereof.  He  was  coming  that  day. 
Let  the  future  take  care  of  itself!  An  hour 
later  the  Kartlow  carriages  drove  into  the  court 
yard  and  she  was  summoned  below.  Frau  von 
Althaus  sat  on  the  front  balcony  with  the  mis 
tress  of  Waldruh.  Elsa  and  the  Strahl  girls  were 
talking  with  Johanna,  and  Herr  von  Waldbeck, 
mounted  on  a  beautiful  horse  which  he  had  just 
purchased,  was  riding  around  the  driveway  in 
front  of  the  house,  talking  with  Uhlheim  and 
the  Count  de  Vere  at  intervals,  when  he  pulled 
up  beside  them.  He  was  enlarging  on  the 
merits  of  his  new  purchase,  and  emphasized  his 
remarks  by  cracking  his  whip  at  the  legs  of 
Matilda's  small  brothers,  who  were  running 
about  the  lawn.  Matilda  paused  on  the 
threshold.  Louis  de  Vere  felt  her  appealing 
gaze  and  her  expression  of  absolute  faith 
smote  him  to  the  heart.  She  believed  in 
him  as  in  her  God,  and  he  vowed  to  be 
worthy  of  her  trust.  He  left  the  group 
hastily  and  advanced  toward  her.  Impulsively 


156  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

she  extended  her  hand,  and  he  stooped  to  kiss 
it  reverently  as  he  might  have  that  of  some 
young  saint.  Her  mother  turned  in  surprise 
and  looked  at  her  blushing  daughter  through  her 
lorgnette.  Matilda  understood  what  that  accen 
tuated  survey  meant.  She  was  a  girl  who  had 
dared  violate  etiquette  by  offering  her  hand  to  a 
stranger,  a  girl,  moreover,  who  had  not  yet  been 
confirmed. 

"  Matilda  !  Really,  M.  de  Vere,  I  hope  you 
will  remember  that  she  is  but  a  child."  The 
cutting  tone  was  well  deserved. 

"You  know,  dear  Madam  de  Waldbeck,  that 
your  daughter  and  I  are  not  entire  strangers." 
He  was  seeking  to  make  some  excuse  for 
Matilda,  and  bungled  in  the  attempt.  "  She  is 
a  very  dear  friend  of  my  sister  Janette,  and  I 
saw  her  often  in  Berlin." 

"Indeed!"  rejoined  Matilda's  mother,  in  a 
significant  tone,  and  with  a  renewed  accession 
of  short-sightedness.  "  I  had  not  heard  of  it, 
but  I  have  not  had  an  opportunity  of  talking 
confidentially  with  my  daughter  since  she  re 
turned  from  Berlin.  Matilda,  you  may  join 
Fraulein  on  the  back  veranda." 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  157 

Matilda  cast  one  long  look  of  reproachful 
entreaty  at  Louis  de  Vere  as  she  disappeared 
in  the  doorway.  He  was  silent,  for  he  knew 
that  every  word  he  uttered  in  her  favor  would 
only  make  the  sentence  harsher. 

Was  this  the  mystery  mentioned  in  Matilda's 
clandestine  note  to  Donna?  Frau  von  Wald- 
beck  determined  to  ascertain. 

"  So  you  saw  my  daughter  in  Berlin  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Janette,  my  sister,  had  the  honor  of 
meeting  you  in  Carlsbad  last  year." 

"Of  course.  Janette  de  Vere,  a  very  pretty 
brunette.  So  she  is  your  sister ;  a  charming 
girl." 

"  She  was  very  much  attracted  by  the  naivete" 
of  mademoiselle,  your  daughter.  She  is  quite 
a  child,  as  you  say." 

M.  de  Vere  assumed  an  air  of  polite  indiffer 
ence  which  partially  quieted  Frau  von  Wald- 
beck's  suspicions. 

"  What  a  lovely  girl  your  elder  daughter  is !  " 
continued  the  count.  "  It  is  quite  evident  that 
she  has  had  the  advantage  of  association  with 
her  charming  mother." 

Frau  von  Waldbeck  was  still  susceptible  to 


158  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

flattery  and  Johanna  was  her  pride.  She  forgot 
for  a  moment  the  little  maid,  sitting  with  the 
Fraulein  in  banishment  and  waiting  for  a  sign 
of  forgiveness.  Just  then  the  tutor  appeared  in 
search  of  his  two  wild  pupils.  Frau  von  Wald- 
beck  looked  up  as  the  Herr  Candidat  bowed 
and  rubbed  his  hands  obsequiously,  while  wait 
ing  for  the  royal  command.  HerrUhlheim,  the 
Kartlow  tutor,was  talking  to  her  husband  on  the 
subject  of  horses.  He  was  such  a  contrast  to  the 
plain  unpretentious  instructor  at  Waldruh  that 
she  could  not  help  smiling.  Ordinarily  the 
tutors  of  the  neighboring  families  fraternized 
and  compared  notes  as  to  their  respective 
duties.  Habit  being  strong,  she  had  it  on 
the  tip  of  her  tongue  to  say  that  Herr  Schultz 
might  extend  the  hospitality  of  his  study  to 
Herr  Uhlheim.  Evidently  Herr  Schultz  ex 
pected  it  and  was  waiting  for  the  break  which 
this  visit  would  make  in  the  monotony  of  his  life. 

"  Do  you  think  Herr  Uhlheim  would  like  to 
talk  with  Herr  Schultz  ?"  said  Frau  von  Wald- 
beck  in  a  low  voice  to  her  neighbor. 

Frau  von  Althaus  laughed. 

"Are  you  serious?     Why  should  he?" 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  159 

"  You  forget  that  he  is  Victor's  tutor,  I  verily 
believe,"  was  the  answer,  in  a  severe  tone. 

"And  is  he  nothing  more  ?  "  exclaimed  the 
other.  "  No,  I  don't  think  it  would  amuse 
him." 

"  If  he  can  talk  to  Leo,"  returned  their  host 
ess,  with  a  short  significant  laugh,  "he  can 
talk  to  any  one.  You  may  call  the  boys,  Herr 
Schultz,"  she  said  in  a  gracious  tone.  "  And 
we  shall  not  require  your  presence  at  dinner 
this  evening." 

Herr  Schultz  bowed  low  and  withdrew,  fol 
lowed  by  the  two  reluctant  boys.  The  Strahl 
girls  and  Elsa  were  playing  tennis  with  Johanna 
behind  the  house. 

Their  voices  reached  Matilda  as  she  sat  on 
the  back  piazza  with  the  Fraulein  and  stitched 
in  silence  on  her  medieval  chair  cushion. 
What  use  were  the  sunshine  and  the  flowers,  if 
she  was  always  to  sit  still  and  silent  while 
her  lover  was  within  sound  of  her  voice  !  The 
tears  fell  fast  on  her  work  and  dimmed  the  face 
of  the  embroidered  angel  and  his  trumpet.  At 
that  moment  the  butler  stepped  to  the  door 
and  called  the  Fraulein  away.  Her  pres- 


160  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

ence  was  required  in  the  dining-room.  As 
she  passed  Matilda  she  looked  sharply  at  her 
pupil's  downcast  face,  but  the  moment  the  door 
closed,  Matilda  flung  a\vay  her  work  and 
leaned  against  the  lattice. 

"  Matilda!  " 

The  voice  startled  her.  Was  it  the  echo  of 
her  heart,  or  had  he  really  spoken  her  name? 

"My  poor  little  girl!  " 

Ah  !  there  was  no  mistake  ;  the  words  came 
from  behind  the  lattice. 

"Oh,  Louis!  If  some  one  should  see 
you!" 

"There  is  no  danger,  I  am  unobserved. 
"  Let  me  speak  to  your  mother  at  once  and 
free  you  from  this  bondage?" 

"  Hush  !  I  am  happy  when  I  hear  your  voice. 
Are  you  really  there  ?  " 

Her  hand  stole  out  to  meet  his,  and  he  kissed 
it  through  the  lattice  work. 

"  Poor  child,  give  me  the  right  to  protect 
you  ;  I  can  not  bear  to  see  you  so  unhappy." 

"Be  reasonable.  Mamma  would  be  enraged  ! 
She  is  angry  with  me  now.  It  is  enough  for  me 
to  know  that  you  love  me.  If  you  didn't,  life 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  161 

would  be  wretched.  I  could  not  live  without 
your  love,  Louis." 

And  he  mentally  vowed  that  she  should 
never  doubt  him  for  an  instant.  Could  he  tell 
her  the  truth  in  the  face  of  such  a  confession? 

"  Mamma  has  forbidden  my  going  to  Kart- 
low,  but  there  are  some  things  she  can  not  con 
trol  ;  the  right  to  do  so  has  passed  from  her.  I 
shall  see  you  again,  Louis,  but  not  here.  She 
suspects  already,  so  be  very  careful.  I  dare 
not  trust  myself  longer  to-night.  I  shall  go  up 
stairs.  She  must  not  know  yet.  Trust  me, 
for  I  know  what  is  best  with  mamma. 
Good-night !  God  bless  you  and  give  me 
strength  to  bear  this  trial  for  a  little  while  yet. 
Quick,  someone  is  coming." 

"  Good-by,  my  brave  little  girl." 

He  disappeared  as  the  Fraulein  came  out  of 
the  house,  and  Matilda's  eyes  were  fastened  on 
the  distant  country  with  a  look  that  touched 
even  the  unsympathetic  nature  of  her  gov 
erness. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about,  Matilda?" 

Matilda  started. 

"  Nothing,"  she  answered,  absently.     "  May 


162  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

I  go  up-stairs  for  a  little  while,  I  have  a  head 
ache?  " 

"  I  think  you  may." 

"  Will  you  tell  mamma  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

She  passed  through  the  dining-room,  and  in 
a  few  moments  was  at  her  casement,  looking 
out  through  the  leafy  branches  of  a  great 
tree  which  cast  its  friendly  shade  over 
her  window.  Her  heart  ached  dully.  Why 
was  the  world  so  pitiless  ?  Alas  !  and  she  was 
so  young  !  Was  it  then  a  crime  to  love  ?  The 
clock  struck  five.  It  was  the  dinner  hour  at 
Waldruh.  She  wondered  whether  the  Fraulein 
would  excuse  her  successfully,  but  the  pompous 
butler  knocked  at  the  door,  and  her  hopes 
were  dispelled. 

"  The  gnadige  Frau  sends  for  the  gnadiges 
Fraulein,  and  desires  her  presence  at  once." 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  obey. 

A  dinner  at  Waldruh  was  a  solemn  and  cere 
monious  affair.  There  were  many  stiff  trained 
servants  in  attendance,  one  for  every  two 
guests.  The  high-backed  dining  chairs  were 
carved,  as  was  the  wainscoting  of  the  room. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  163 

The  walls  were  somber,  but  the  faces  of 
bygone  generations  looked  down  with  a  levity 
which  seemed  almost  indecorous ;  for  the 
lords  of  Waldruh  had  been  jolly  squires,  with 
no  serious  thought  beyond  the  hunt.  It 
was  only  under  the  regime  of  the  present 
baroness  that  laughter  was  hushed  to  awe,  and 
the  family  spoke  in  whispers.  Herr  von  Wald- 
beck  was  at  the  head  of  the  table,  with  Frau 
von  Althaus  on  his  right.  On  either  side  of 
the  hostess  sat  Uhlheim  and  the  Count  de  Vere. 
Victor  engrossed  Elsa's  attention  to  the  best 
of  his  ability.  Johanna  entertained  the  master 
of  Tatow,  their  neighbor,  who,  rumor  said,  was 
looked  upon  with  favor  by  Johanna's  mother  as 
a  possible  son-in-law.  The  conversation  was 
animated  and  the  laughter  general.  The  mis 
tress  was  in  good  humor,  forgetting  to  snub 
her  husband  when  he  made  occasional  feeble 
jokes.  Never  had  the  atmosphere  of  Waldruh 
seemed  so  clear.  It  was  all  due  to  Louis's 
influence,  Matilda  thought,  to  the  charm  of  his 
manner.  Her  mother  did  not  look  at  her,  and 
Louis  hardly  dared  to  turn  his  eyes  in  her 
direction.  The  dinner  ended,  the  ladies 


164  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

adjourned  to  the  salon,  where  a  grand  piano 
stood  open,  while  the  gentlemen  lingered  but  a 
few  minutes  over  their  wine,  contrary  to  their 
usual  custom. 

"  You  will  play  the  Spinnlied,"  whispered 
Frau  von  Waldbeck  to  Matilda. 

"Yes,  mamma." 

She  would  stumble  through  it  and  be  dis 
graced,  but  she  bowed  in  despair  to  the  inev 
itable.  Elsa  joined  her  in  the  corner,  where 
she  was  looking  over  some  photographs. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  Matilda.  Don't  think 
about  it  and  it  will  go  beautifully." 

"  I  wish  you  would  play  for  me." 

"  I  haven't  played  for  six  months.  Don't 
suggest  it." 

The  thought  of  playing  before  Uhlheim 
filled  Elsa  with  terror.  She  knew  her  own 
nature  so  well.  As  long  as  she  had  herself 
under  control,  it  was  well,  but  music  let 
loose  all  the  passionate  longing  which  she 
dreaded  to  show  him.  Now  that  a  barrier 
raised  by  her  reserve,  separated  them,  she 
dared  not  trifle  with  herself  for  fear  it  might  be 
overthrown  by  a  touch  of  her  slender  fingers 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  165 

on  the  keys.  The  gentlemen  had  joined  the 
ladies,  and  were  talking  in  a  desultory  way. 
A  pause  ensued — and  then  Matilda  heard  her' 
mother's  voice  saying  : 

"  Johanna,  give  us  a  little  music." 

Johanna  left  the  group  of  girls,  who  had 
'been  admiring  her  cushion,  which  was  fin 
ished,  pressed  and  ready  to  make  up.  She 
approached  the  piano  led  by  the  Count  de  Vere, 
seated  herself,  shook  out  her  dress  and  ran  her 
white  fingers  over  the  keys.  Then  she  played 
one  of  Liszt's  Rhapsodies  Hongroises  with 
mathematical  precision.  There  was  no  quiver 
ing  or  uncertainty  in  Johanna's  touch. 

"She  didn't  turn  a  hair!"  was  her  father's 
comment  as  she  finished  and  complacently 
bowed  acknowledgment  to  the  applause  that 
followed. 

"Now,  Matilda." 

"Yes,  mamma !  " 

Her  hands  were  cold  and  nerveless. 

"  The  Spinnlied." 

"  Please  let  me  play  something  else." 

"  The  Spinnlied,"  in  a  tone  of  cold  dis 
pleasure. 


1 66  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"  Very  well." 

She  began  the  Spinnlied  of  Mendelssohn. 
Her  head  swam,  her  fingers  sought  the  keys 
feebly.  She  stumbled  over  a  few  bars  and  then 
broke  down. 

"  Matilda,  how  can  you  disgrace  yourself  so  ? 
That  simple  little  piece,  why,  you  played  it 
perfectly  two  hours  ago." 

"  Yes,  mamma ;  I  am  sorry,"  she  replied, 
with  a  faint  smile  as  she  turned  her  pale  face 
toward  her  angry  mother. 

"  Pardon  me,"  interposed  Uhlheim,  "but  the 
Spinnlied  of  Mendelssohn  is  one  of  his  most 
difficult  compositions.  Fraulein  Matilda,  if 
you  can  play  it  well,  you  are  to  be  congrat 
ulated.  You  are  nervous  now,  but  when  that 
is  overcome  your  playing  will  be  charming." 

"  Thank  you,  Herr  Uhlheim,"  answered 
Matilda,  with  a  grateful  smile.  "  You  are  good. 
Mamma,  will  you  excuse  me  ?  " 

She  rose  as  she  spoke,  but  her  disdainful 
mother  did  not  raise  her  eyes. 

The  child's  heart  contracted  with  sudden 
pain,  she  took  a  step  forward  and  fell  in  a 
faint  at  her  mother's  feet.  In  a  moment 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  167 

every  thing  was  in  confusion.  Her  mother 
lifted  her  quickly,  and  when  she  regained  con 
sciousness,  and  saw  anxious  faces  bending  over 
her,  with  a  glad  cry  she  threw  both  her  arms 
around  her  mother's  neck,  crying: 

"Oh  !  mother,  mother,"  and  burst  into  tears. 

They  carried  her  from  the  room.  Shortly 
after  Frau  von  Waldbeck  reappeared,  explain 
ing  with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders  that  Matilda 
had  an  attack  of  "  nerves  ",  and  would  soon  be 
better. 

"Won't  you  play  now  ?  "  urged  Victor,  in  a 
low  voice  to  Elsa. 

"  No,  don't  ask  me,"  she  answered  hurriedly. 

"  It  will  smooth  this  over  if  you  will,"  he 
added.  "  Uhlheim  here  is  dying  to  hear  you. 
He  says  he  can  read  people  through  their 
music." 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  have  him  read  me,"  she 
answered. 

"  I  don't  think  I  should  learn  much  of  Frau- 
lein  von  Rabenhorst  through  her  music,"  said 
Uhlheim  coldly. 

It  seemed  a  challenge  to  her.  How  eagerly 
she  longed  to  touch  the  piano  again,  and  show 


i68  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

her  power.  Through  music  she  could  make  his 
heart  throb  with  the  passion  that  filled  her 
own,  but  she  did  not  dare.  The  day  would 
come  for  her  to  reveal  herself  through  music, 
but  not  until  the  barrier  between  them  should  be 
insurmountable. 


IX. 


HAT  evening,  as  they  were  driving  home, 
Berthe,  Sophie  and  Victor  chatted  volubly, 
but  Elsa  was  silent. 

The  scene  they  had  just  witnessed  rose  before 
her,  and  Matilda's  appealing  cry  still  rang  in 
her  ears.  She  thought  of  her  own  mother  with 
tenderness,  and  wondered  what  she  herself 
might  have  become  with  such  training.  Prob 
ably  rebellious  and  sullen.  The  Strahls  dis 
cussed  the  situation  freely,  and  commented 
upon  it  in  terms  not  particularly  complimen 
tary  to  their  late  hostess. 

"And  where  was  Caroline?"  asked  Victor. 

"  She  was  carefully  kept  in  the  background. 
"  You  know  she  made  a  mesalliance"  remarked 
Berthe. 

"Oh,  of  course,  and  so  she  is  not  exhibited 
except  on  state  occasions,"  added  Victor.  "  She 
retires  to  the  school-room  and  dines  with  the 
Fraulein,  the  tutor  and  the  boys." 


170  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"  Was  she  not  the  lady  whose  daughter  was 
debarred  convent  privileges  because  the  noble 
line  of  sixteen  generations  had  been  broken  by 
plebeian  blood  ?  "  asked  Uhlheim. 

"  Exactly." 

"You  were  particularly  impressed  with  the 
enormity  of  her  crime,  if  I  remember  correctly, 
gracious  Fraulein  ?  " 

His  words  aroused  Elsa  from  her  reverie. 

"  Oh,  Caroline,  I  had  forgotten  her  !  " 

If  he  chose  to  think  her  heartless,  she  would 
not  undeceive  him. 

"Caroline  was  ill,"  protested  Frau  von 
Althaus.  "You  are  unjust,  I  am  sure.  Frau 
von  Waldbeck  is  kind  to  her.  Why  should  she 
banish  her?  " 

"Andrew  are  charitable,"  remarked  Louis 
de  Vere ;  "  for  judging  from  the  way  she  treats 
her  daughter,  her  kindness  might  be  ques 
tioned." 

They  drove  on  in  silence  for  some  time.  It 
was  a  clear,  starlight  night.  The  sunset  still 
lingered  and  lighted  the  gray  clouds  with  red 
like  a  distant  fire. 

"  What  a  lovely  night !  "  observed  Frau  von 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  171 

Althaus.  "It  is  almost  like  a  night  in 
Italy." 

"  You  should  see  it  in  winter,"  said  Elsa. 
"  Those  fields  are  piled  high  with  snow,  and  we 
often  have  to  stop  and  dig  out  the  roads  before 
we  can  proceed  on  our  way,  while  the  winds 
sweep  over  the  plains  with  the  sharpness  of 
death." 

"  Yes,"  added  Berthe,  with  a  shudder.  "  The 
north  wind  breathes  destruction." 

"  Give  me  the  soft  air  of  my  adopted  land 
Italy,"  said  Victor. 

"  You  rebel,"  protested  Leopold ;  "  what 
right  have  you  to  an  adopted  country?  Meck 
lenburg  claims  you." 

"  Yes,  because  by  accident  I  have  lands  here. 
On  the  whole,  I  don't  think  I  care  for  lands. 
They  hamper  one.  I  am  obliged  to  get  per 
mission  from  the  grand  duke  to  live  away  so 
much,  and  I  get  it  solely  because  of  my  health, 
but  Mecklin  says  it  is  ruinous  to  my  interests." 

"  How  can  you  deny  your  inheritance  ?  "  pro 
tested  his  aunt.  "  Are  you  adopting  some  of 
Herr  Uhlheim's  radical  notions  ?  This  won't  do 
for  a  land-owner." 


172  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"  It  would  be  better  if  there  were  no  entail," 
remarked  Leopold  ;  "  for  if  your  property  were 
in  money  you  would  be  much  more  inde 
pendent." 

"  After  all  I  would  not  give  up  my  ancestral 
halls  for  all  the  money  in  the  world." 

"  Bravo  !  "  exclaimed  Louis  de  Vere. 

"Oh  !  you  are  all  wrong.    Money  is  power!  " 

"  I  use  to  write  in  my  copy  book  when  I  was 
a  child  that  knowledge  was  power,"  said  Victor. 
"  But  knowledge  seems  to  me  more  difficult 
to  attain  than  wealth.  I  should  have  been  in 
a  bad  way  if  my  progenitor  had  not  provided 
for  me.  I  don't  think  I  could  have  done  much 
for  myself  either  way." 

"  You  would  be  nothing  without  money. 
How  could  you  till  the  soil?  No,  money  is 
power,"  reiterated  Uhlheim. 

"  Money  can  not  buy  the  distinction  that  gen 
erations  have  transmitted  to  us,"  interposed 
Elsa,  with  enthusiasm.  "  It  is  grand  to  bear 
an  old  name  with  its  entail  of  honor." 

How  she  hated  what  she  was  pleased  to  term 
Uhlheim's  plebeian  instincts! 

"  To  be  honest  must  one  necessarily  have  a 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE,  173 

line  of  noble  ancestors,  gracious  Fraulein  ? 
How  many  honest  and  able  men  there  are  who, 
boasting  no  ancestry  and  unhampered  by  tradi 
tion,  strike  for  themselves  and  make  themselves 
respected  by  their  own  merit.  They  enforce 
recognition  even  from  these  lords  of  creation, 
whose  only  claim  to  recognition  rests  on  the 
laurels  of  some  long-forgotten  ancestor.  What 
is  the  superiority  of  the  lord  over  the  self-made 
man  ?  Is  it  because  a  king  in  long-forgotten 
times  dubbed  his  ancestor  knight?  Did  that 
enhance  his  value  ?  No,  the  brave  act  which 
enforced  recognition  by  knighthood  ennobled 
him,  not  the  king'  s  favor.  In  those  days  a 
knight  was  little  better  than  a  marauder;  in 
these,  he  has  become  the  gentleman  far 
mer.  He  tills  his  lands  ;  he  sells  the  produce 
thereof.  He  sells — but  he  is  not  a  merchant. 
Oh,  no  !  the  merchant  is  beneath  his  notice, 
but  at  the  same  time  he  sells.  He  takes  money 
for  his  grain.  Is  it  because  the  merchant  pays 
him  money  that  he  is  inferior,  or  because  he  is 
not  so  well  educated  ?  I  never  heard  that  educa 
tion  was  a  standard  of  excellence  among  the 
nobility.  No.  Superiority  lies  in  the  individ- 


174  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

ual,  be  he  lord  or  serf.  It  is  not  a  question  of 
class,  and  Victor  here  is  a  farmer.  Nothing 
more.  Not  a  very  good  one,  I  fancy,  but  still 
that  is  his  trade.  Eh  !  Victor  ? "  Victor 
laughed. 

"  You  can  make  black  white,"  he  answered 
evasively.  "  You  should  have  been  a  lawyer." 

"  For  the  present  I  am  content  to  be  your 
tutor,  and  find  my  time  fully  occupied  by  the 
duties  of  my  office." 

"  But  you  can  not  upset  the  traditions  of  race 
so  lightly,"  interposed  Elsa,  "  even  if  a  man 
rest  on  the  laurels  his  ancestor  has  won.  It  is 
something  to  be  the  son  of  a  distinguished  man, 
however  ;  the  name  his  distinguished  father 
bequeathed  him  should  be  a  cherished  inherit 
ance,  which  he  in  turn  is  in  honor  bound  to 
transmit  untarnished  to  his  sons." 

"  Can  one  not  be  great  in  himself  ?  "  replied 
Uhlheim  more  gently.  There  was  something 
in  the  bearing  of  this  proud  girl  that  touched 
his  sympathy.  If  only  her  pride  would  bend, 
might  not  the  spirit,  whose  very  existence  he 
doubted,  rise  and  fill  her  being  like  the  light  of 
an  alabaster  lamp. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  175 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Napoleon  ?  " 

"  He  was  a  giant,"  she  returned.  "  The 
world  is  full  of  pigmies." 

"  He,  too,  was  vulnerable.  Ambition  to  ally 
himself  with  kings  was  his  undoing.  When 
the  people  placed  the  laurel  he  had  justly  won 
upon  his  brow,  he  was  not  satisfied." 

"  True  !     But  he  was  a  pretender." 

"  Then  you  do  not  think  a  man  of  obscure 
birth  can  raise  himself  to  the  level  of  kings?  " 

"  No.  I  believe  in  the  divine  right  of  kings. 
Napoleon  was  punished  for  his  presumption. 
One  expects  nothing  of  the  people,  but  'noblesse 
oblige'.  The  nobleman  who  stains  the  honor 
able  name  inherited  as  a  trust,  is  contemptible." 

Elsa's  voice  vibrated  with  feeling.  She  felt 
Leopold's  eyes  on  her  and  trembled  with 
fear.  Had  she  betrayed  herself  ?  Until  now, 
she  had  held  herself  under  perfect  control, 
presenting  to  him  and  the  world  a  calm 
exterior.  But  a  shade  of  arrogance  in  his 
tone  had  impelled  her  to  defend  her  caste,  and 
this  impulse  had  carried  her  away. 

"  She  would  have  died  for  her  faith  in  the 
old  days,"  he  thought,  "  and  have  met  the  lion 


IT  6  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

with  a  smile."  But  she  was  shut  out  from  him 
by  a  barrier  as  high  as  the  stars. 

"This  was  why  I  censured  Caroline,"  she 
continued  steadily,  as  though  fearing  his  influ 
ence.  "  She  forgot  the  dignity  due  her  name 
in  marrying  beneath  her." 

"  She  was  human.     She  loved." 

"  She  had  no  right  to  love  him" 

"  You  are  hard." 

"  I  am  just." 

"Would  you  have  forgiven  her  if  he  had 
been  noble,  brave,  admirable  in  himself  ?  " 

"  He  was  hopelessly  commonplace." 

"  And  doubtless  so  was  she." 

"  Yes  !  " 

"  What  a  pity  that  the  king  knighted  her 
father  and  burdened  her  with  a  title,  otherwise 
they  might  have  been  happy  in  a  hum-drum 
way  ;  for  if  they  were  both  commonplace,  they 
were  on  equal  footing." 

He  could  not  refrain  from  chaffing  her  a  lit 
tle. 

"  She  should  have  considered  her  family." 

"  I  can  not  understand  these  considerations. 
A  man  does  not  marry  the  family." 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  177 

"A  man  raises  his  wife  to  his  own  level,  but 
a  woman  sinks  to  her  husband's  level." 

"  If  I  loved  a  woman,"  cried  Uhlheim,  pas 
sionately,  "  nothing  should  stand  in  the  way  of 
my  marrying  her.  Such  obstacles  would  top 
ple  over  like  card  houses.  Caste !  nonsense  ! 
I  don't  believe  in  it.  Nothing  but  her  will 
would  check  me,  and  I  fancy  the  strength  of  my 
love  would  overcome  even  that." 

Elsa  trembled.  This  was  the  love  of 
which  she  had  dreamed  when  seated  in  the 
tower  at  Rabenhorst,  overlooking  the  wild 
waves.  But  her  ideal  had  been  a  mailed 
knight  like  those  hanging  in  her  father's 
ancestral  halls,  not  a  burgher  and  a  radical. 
His  deep  voice  rang  in  her  ear.  Her  whole 
nature  drooped  toward  him.  Why  did  fate 
torment  her  with  longing  for  a  man  so  far 
beneath  her  in  station?  A  voice  within  her 
struggled  for  utterance,  crying,  "  Sweep  down 
the  barrier  of  pride." 

"Remember  who  you  are  and  beware," 
argued  her  pride. 

"  I  congratulate  you  on  your  enthusiasm," 
she  said,  coldly.  "  But  it  seems  to  me  that  it 


1 78  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

would  not  be  difficult  for  you  to  find  a  suitable 
wife  in  your  own  class  where  there  would  be  no 
obstacles  to  overcome." 

At  any  cost  she  must  free  herself  from  a  sub 
ject  that  was  becoming  dangerous.  He  looked 
as  though  she  had  struck  him,  and  then  he 
gathered  the  full  force  of  her  meaning.  She, 
the  great  lady,  thought  him  presumptuous,  and 
he  hated  her  with  an  intensity  greater  than 
before. 

"  Class  !  "  he  echoed  coldly.  "  To  me  there 
is  but  one  standard  ;  that  of  refinement.  The 
woman  of  my  choice  must  have  both  heart  and 
gentleness,  wherever  chance  may  have  placed 
her.  A  heartless  woman  in  any  class  is  safe 
from  me,  for  she  would  be  obnoxious  to  me." 

His  breath  caught  as  he  finished,  and  his 
face  was  white  with  passion. 

"  Now,"  she  thought,  "  he  despises  me." 

This  thought  was  quickly  followed  by  the 
fear  that  he  might  fancy  she  had  found  a  per 
sonal  application  in  his  words.  Her  pride  took 
alarm.  How  could  she  undeceive  him  ?  His 
face  was  turned  away,  his  clear  cut  profile  stood 
out  against  the  moonlit  fields.  Suddenly  he 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  179 

bared  his  head  to  the  summer  breeze.  His 
thin  lips  were  compressed,  and  his  nostrils 
quivered.  He  raised  his  head  and  folding  his 
arms  proudly,  looked  far  away  from  her,  over 
the  distant  landscape.  At  last  he  turned 
toward  her  deliberately,  and  in  those  dark 
eyes  that  were  capable  of  expressing  burning 
passion,  she  read  defiance  almost  contempt. 
Her  eyes  fell.  Had  she  the  right  to  judge  him 
by  a  common  standard  ?  Was  he  not  king  in 
his  own  right  ?  Could  any  king  be  prouder, 
braver  or  truer  to  his  convictions?  But  there 
was  a  barrier  between  them,  the  barrier  of  pride. 

They  drove  past  a  small  pond  and  up  a 
steep  hill.  The  horses  fell  into  a  walk.  The 
moon  cast  its  reflection  in  the  water,  bringing 
to  view  a  hut  which  had  been  hidden  in  the 
shadow.  A  yelping  dog  alone  broke  the  still 
ness  that  surrounded  them. 

"  This  place  reminds  me  of  a  story,"  said 
Leopold. 

"Oh!  tell  us!"  cried  Berthe  and  Sophie 
Strahl  in  concert.  "  We  were  nearly  asleep." 

"A  story!  A  ghost  story!  How  charm 
ing  !"  added  Victor. 


180  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"  After  all,  you  may  not  find  it  interesting, 
but  you  shall  judge,"  answered  Uhlheim. 

"There  was  once  a  man  with  an  ideal.  He 
was  of  average  intelligence  and  ability..  He 
was  not  given  to  dreams  nor  was  he  unprac 
tical,  and  he  had  wealth  and  ambition.  Sud 
denly  his  wealth  melted  away  and  his  life 
seemed  to  degenerate  into  drudgery.  He  was 
depressed.  One  night  he  found  himself  on 
the  edge  of  a  small  pond,  like  the  one  we  just 
passed.  He  was  reviewing  his  unhappy  expe 
riences,  lost  in  reverie  at  the  changes  fate  had 
brought  him.  Suddenly  a  voice  rose  on  the 
stillness.  A  woman's  voice,  pure,  resonant 
and  beautiful.  It  sang  of  love  and  woe,  and  he 
forgot  his  disappointment  as  he  listened. 
The  melody  breathed  a  hope  so  consoling 
that  it  filled  his  heart  with  peace.  He  turned 
to  grasp  the  woman  singing  beside  him  ;  the 
voice  ascended  like  a  bird  and  soared  above 
the  earth,  floating  away  to  be  lost  in  silence. 
He  wandered  on,  the  voice  followed,  still 
beyond  his  reach,  and  entered  into  his  life 
forever  after.  He  looked  about  him  for  the 
woman  to  embody  the  ideal  evoked  by  the 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  181 

magic  melody  in  vain.  He  looked  hopefully 
into  the  eyes  of  every  woman  he  met.  Some 
times  he  thought  he  discerned  the  soul  that 
eluded  him,  but  with  a  sigh  of  despair  he  turned 
away.  She  existed  solely  in  his  imagination. 
He  dreamed  of  her  at  night,  only  to  meet  dis 
appointment.  He  grew  morbid.  Try  as  he 
might,  he  could  not  forget.  Possibly  he  might 
have  been  content  to  choose  some  lower  spirit, 
had  he  never  had  a  glimpse  of  his  ideal. 
Descent  was  impossible." 

"  And  how  did  it  end  ?  "  asked  Sophie. 

"  By  his  going  mad  !  "  answered  Leopold, 
abruptly. 

"  And  what  had  he  hoped  to  give  in  return 
for  so  much  perfection  ?  "  asked  Elsa,  with  a 
touch  of  irony.  "  Did  he  think  the  ideal  would 
fall  into  his  arms,  simply  because  he  appreciated 
her  perfection  ?  He  was  a  man  of  average 
ability,  without  wealth,  of  an  uncertain  future, 
and  she  a  spirit  of  the  air.  It  would  have  been 
a  very  unequal  match,  and  I  think  your  hero 
was  unreasonable." 

"Yes,  he  was  like  most  men,"  returned  Leo 
pold.  "  But  for  her  he  could  have  accomplished 


182  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

any  thing.  He  could  have  moved  the  earth. 
She  would  have  been  an  incentive  to  effort." 

Elsa  smiled. 

"  It  is  as  well  that  he  went  mad,"  she  said, 
but  her  eyes  shone  like  stars,  and  she  smiled  to 
herself  again. 

"Are  you  possessed  ?"  exclaimed  the  Count 
de  Vere,  in  a  low  tone  to  Leopold. 

"I  could  not  help  it.  The  impulse  was 
unconquerable." 

But  Elsa's  words  sank  deep.  What  was  he 
but  an  idler?  He  was  of  no  use  in  the  world. 
He  had  never  done  any  thing  to  entitle  him 
to  a  place  above  the  average.  Then  he  looked 
up  at  the  starlit  sky,  and  thought  that  the 
woman  whose  voice  had  stirred  him  was  dead, 
and  he  would  never  meet  another  like  her. 
How  could  Elsa's  scorn  affect  him?  Soon  he 
should  leave  Mecklenburg  with  its  disdainful 
ladies  far  behind  him.  Even  the  voice  would 
not  haunt  him  among  men,  if  ever  he  should 
have  the  energy  to  fight  his  way  and  secure  a 
footing  where  the  weak  and  the  indolent  were 
sure  to  go  to  the  wall. 

That    night    when   he    closed    his   window, 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  183 

the  voice  ascended  in  triumphant  tones,  as 
though  conscious  of  its  power,  and  wove  a  net 
work  of  magic  around  his  heart  that  terrified 
him.  He  shut  his  ears  and  bade  it  begone  for 
ever,  for  he  knew  that  he  must  conquer  its 
influence  or  go  mad;  but  still  it  surged  through 
his  brain.  The  next  morning  he  asked  Victor 
whether  any  thing  had  disturbed  his  slumbers 
the  night  before. 

"  Only  the  old  watchman  intoning  the  hour 
in  a  very  sleepy  voice,"  replied  Victor.  "  I 
must  really  get  a  new  watchman  :  the  old  one 
may  drop  off  in  his  sleep  some  night,  and  let  us 
go  to  destruction  without  warning." 

"You  heard  nothing  else?" 

"  Nothing  but  the  hooting  of  an  owl,  Herr 
Uhlheim.  I  hope  you  are  not  getting  super 
stitious  at  your  time  of  life.  There  are  tales 
of  spirits  lurking  in  the  shadows  of  the  park, 
but  that  is  old  woman's  talk.  Did  you  ever 
hear  the  story  of  our  Hexe  ?  She  was  a  very 
bold  and  forward  maid,  who  tried  to  fascinate  an 
ancestor  of  ours.  He,  not  being  susceptible, 
set  a  trap  for  her  and  caught  her  by  her  golden 
hair.  She  screamed,  and  called  on  all  the  spirits 


184  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

of  the  air  to  help  her;  but  she  had  been  a  self 
ish,  malicious  sprite,  and  they  were  only  too 
glad  to  have  her  caught.  To  punish  her 
audacity,  my  stern  old  ancestor  entombed  her 
in  the  bark  of  the  great  oak  out  in  the  park, 
and  the  old  women  say  that  she  still  wails 
there.  I  never  heard  her,  for  she  is  always 
silent  in  the  presence  of  a  Strahl ;  but  when  she 
cries  and  sings,  danger  is  supposed  to  hover 
over  us.  They  say  she  has  been  singing  during 
these  stormy  nights,  but  I  think  it  is  the  hoot 
ing  of  the  owls.  I  don't  believe  in  such  non 
sense,  do  you,  Herr  Uhlheim?" 

"  Of  course  not,"  returned  Uhlheim,  steadily ; 
but  he  walked  away  with  a  strange  tremor  in 
his  heart,  for  her  wailing  cry  had  resounded  in 
his  ears,  and  the  Hexe  had  cast  her  wiles  about 
him.  He  did  not  believe  in  the  supernatural, 
but  he  did  believe  the  evidence  of  his  senses. 
The  mournful  strain  of  her  song  was  real, 
though  he  knew  not  whence  it  came. 


X. 


TWO  or  three  days  of  rain  followed  at  Kart- 
low,  and  the  Schloss  was  comparatively  shut 
out  from  the  world.  Uhlheim  and  the  Count 
de  Vere  were  much  together  ;  Victor's  lessons 
were  stopped  for  the  week.  A  necessary  relaxa 
tion,  Victor  claimed,  but  his  aunt  shook  her 
head  doubtfully.  Nothing  had  been  seen  of 
Donna  since  she  galloped  through  the  village  on 
the  evening  of  Louis  de  Vere's  arrival.  How 
ever,  the  rain  accounted  for  her  non-appearance. 
Who  could  weather  such  a  storm  excepting 
on  a  journey  of  life  or  death  !  The  Strahl  girls 
knitted  and  embroidered.  Somebody's  fete 
day  was  at  hand — an  old  "  Tante's  "  to  whom  it 
would  be  highly  disrespectful  to  offer  any  gift 
except  one  of  their  own  handiwork.  The  third 
day,  when  they  were  all  tired  of  their  enforced 
imprisonment,  and  bored  by  each  other's 
society,  Elsa  ventured  forth  in  the  evening 


1 86  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

by  herself.  She  went  only  as  far  as  the  park, 
during  an  interval  when  the  clouds  lifted,  but 
the  chilly  air  made  her  shiver,  and  she  con 
tracted  a  cold  which  kept  her  confined  to  her 
room  for  several  days ;  at  last  the  sun  reappeared, 
to  find  the  grass  and  leaves  refreshed  by  his 
temporary  absence.  The  lawn  was  like  velvet, 
and  the  birds  sang  joyously.  Every  thing  and 
every  body  hailed  the  change  with  joy.  Early 
in  the  morning  Donna  drove  over  to  Kartlow 
in  the  phaeton.  She  found  Elsa  lying  on  the 
chaise  longue  in  her  room,  dressed  in  a  white  cash 
mere  wrapper  and  looking  pale  and  ill.  Donna's 
glowing  color  had  disappeared.  Her  eyes 
were  heavy  with  care,  possibly  with  weep 
ing. 

"  I  heard  you  were  ill,  dear,"  she  said,  as  she 
entered  Elsa's  room,  "  and  I  could  not  stay 
away." 

"Why  should  you  think  of  staying  away 
from  me  ?  " 

"  There  is  really  no  reason,"  answered 
Donna  evasively.  "  I  thought  I  had  been  too 
much  at  Kartlow  lately.  What  is  the  matter 
with  you  ?  " 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  187 

"  Nothing — a  cold.  This  dampness  is  enough 
to  make  one  ill." 

"  Yes,  and  you  could  not  have  a  fire  in  that 
porcelain  stove.  The  English  open  grate  is  so 
much  more  cheerful.  It  feels  chilly  here 
now." 

"  But  the  sun  is  glorious.  I  should  like  to  go 
out." 

"  Come  !  " 

"  To-morrow.  Tante  Althaus  sent  for  the 
doctor  and  he  prescribed " 

"  Now  don't  tell  me  that  he  prescribed,"  cried 
Donna  lifting  her  hands  in  protest.  "  Probably 
a  course  of  twenty-one  baths  of  sea  salt ;  and  he 
compared  you  to  a  sea  nymph  or  some  other 
impossible  creature.  He  is  a  fossil,  but  what 
can  one  expect  of  a  man  who  doctors  by  the 
year!  He  must  necessarily  be  a  machine,  as  he 
regards  his  visit  to  you  as  one  of  a  course. 
There  can  be  no  originality  in  his  treatment. 
Old  Steiner  has  brought  us  all  into  the  world, 
and  soon  will  assist  us  all  out  of  it  unless  a 
kind  Providence  forestalls  him  by  removing 
him  from  this  mortal  sphere." 

"  Oh  !  Donna,  "  interrupted   Elsa  laughing, 


1 88  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"  how  severe  you  are.  He  prescribed  only 
rest." 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  to  need  rest  ? 
On  the  contrary,  you  lazy  girl,  you  need 
exercise.  Get  in  a  glow  ;  that  will  do  you  good. 
This  comes  of  living  with  Semi-Italians  who 
never  move  unless  a  thunderstorm  or  a  whirl 
wind  dislodges  them." 

"  You  are  equal  to  any  whirlwind,"  said  Elsa, 
languidly.  "  I  haven't  the  strength  to  move." 

"When  do  you  begin  the  baths?" 

Elsa  laughed. 

"Then  he  did  order  them!"  exclaimed 
Donna  in  a  tone  of  triumph.  "  Oh  !  I  know 
him  of  old.  It  won't  do  you  a  bit  of  good 
to  go  down  into  that  gloomy  stone  bath 
room." 

"  Picturesque  as  a  Roman  bath." 

"Oh!  It  is  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  house, 
lighted  by  an  iron  barred  window  like  a  cell, 
and  no  sun." 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  Donna.  I  don't  think  I 
shall  complete  the  Kur,  as  I  have  had  a  letter 
from  papa.  He  will  soon  be  back." 

"  I  am  sorry." 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  189 

"  I  am  glad.  I  long  for  the  "  Heimath  "  and 
the  sea.  I  have  been  here  six  weeks." 

"  Did  they  seem  long  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  But  I  wonder  what  the  old  Frau- 
lein  has  been  doing  without  me.  I  long  for 
my  piano  and  the  sound  of  the  surf  breaking 
against  the  rocks  under  my  window.  Heine 
too — 

"  Don't  say  any  thing  about  Heine,"  inter 
rupted  Donna  laughing.  "  I  can  see  him  from 
this  tower  window  down  near  the  stables  with 
Herr  Uhlheim.  They  have  saddled  the  pony 
and  Heine  is  riding  up  and  down,  while  Herr 
Uhlheim  leads  the  horse.  He  is  perfectly 
happy.  Now  they  are  trotting  a  little." 

"  He  will  fall  !  He  will  fall  !  "  cried  Elsa, 
rushing  to  join  Donna  at  the  window.  "  Oh  ! 
if  any  thing  should  happen  to  him  !  " 

"  Calm  yourself,  Elsa  ;  while  Herr  Uhlheim  is 
there  nothing  can  happen.  His  hand  is  as 
strong  and  steady — " 

"As  a  groom's,"  supplemented  Elsa,  scorn 
fully. 

"  Why  are  you  so  bitter  ?  What  has  he  done  to 
you  ?  You  treat  him  coldly;  you  hardly  speak 


190  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

a  civil  word  to  him  ;  I  am  sure  he  is  much  more 
entertaining  than  half  the  men  one  meets  at 
court. 

"  Indeed  !  Has  he  attracted  you  so  much  ? 
He  never  enters  my  mind.  He  is  Victor's 
tutor.  I  am  not  accustomed  to  waste  much 
thought  on  a  man  in  his  position." 

"  I  won't  argue  with  you,"  rejoined  Donna, 
with  indignation.  "  That  man  is  no  ordinary 
tutor." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  he  is  an  extra 
ordinary  one,  for  Victor's  sake,"  replied  Elsa, 
leaning  back  upon  her  pillows. 

"  Elsa  sarcastic  !  What  has  developed  this 
trait  ?  " 

"  Being  shut  up  in  the  house  three  days 
while  the  wind  howled  outside.  Don't  talk 
about  me.  Tell  me  about  yourself." 

"  Now  they  are  walking  together,"  continued 
Donna,  still  looking  out  of  the  window.  "  He 
has  Heine  by  the  hand,  and  they  are  talking 
about  the  storks.  Heine  points  with  one  little 
hand  to  the  storks'  nest  on  the  laundry,  and 
the  big  stork  is  soaring  overhead.  Why  he 
has  alighted  beside  them,  and  is  feeding  from 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  191 

Heine's  hand.  What  a  pretty  picture.  What 
a  glorious  man  that  is  !  He  is  as  handsome  as 
a  demigod  ;  Elsa,  come  quick,  and  look  !  " 

"  You  forget  yourself,"  replied  Elsa,  coldly. 
"  Come  away  from  the  window,  and  leave  them 
to  themselves.  What  would  he  think  if  he 
should  look  up  and  see  you  ?" 

"  Who  ?  Heine.     He  would  laugh — 

"  No,  the  other- 
Donna  laughed. 

"The  other!  So  you  won't  even  mention 
his  name." 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  of  him  !  "  cried  Elsa,  pas 
sionately.  "  I  will  not  think  of  him.  I  hate 
him." 

"Indeed  !  "  rejoined  Donna,  looking  toward 
her.  "  That  is  serious." 

"  Donna,  I  am  ill.  I  can  not  bear  this  strain. 
Tell  me " 

"  Now,  he  is  patting  the  stork.  Some  one  is 
coming  to  join  them,  Elsa!  " 

Donna  started  back  suddenly  from  the  win 
dow,  and  then  added  in  a  changed  voice :  "  I 
thought  Monsieur  dc  Verc  had  gone — 

"  Oh  !  no  ;  he  remains  some  time  yet." 


1 92  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"  You  went  to  Waldruh  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"How  is  Matilda?" 

"  She  didn't  seem  well.  She  fainted  while 
we  were  there." 

"  Poor  child  !     Her  mother  will  kill  her." 

Donna  rose. 

"  Where  are  the  Strahl  girls?  "  she  asked. 

"  Out  walking  in  the  park." 

"  I  think  I  will  try  and  find  them.  You  will 
come  down  for  dinner?" 

"Perhaps,  but  you  will  be  back  again  soon?" 

""Probably  in  half  an  hour." 

Donna  closed  the  door.  The  close  air  of  the 
tower  chamber  stifled  her.  Louis  knew  that 
she  was  there  ;  her  phaeton  was  in  the  stables  ; 
but  she  could  not  meet  him.  She  must  avoid 
all  chance  of  that.  Indeed,  had  she  thought  him 
still  at  Kartlow,  she  would  not  have  ventured 
there,  even  to  see  Elsa.  She  hurried  down  the 
broad  staircase,  out  through  the  veranda  door, 
over  the  lawn.  Neither  Berthe  nor  Sophie 
Strahl  was  in  sight.  She  gained  the  bridge 
leading  to  the  island.  No  one  was  there,  and 
the  seat  beneath  the  great  chestnut  tree  looked 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  193 

cool  and  inviting.  The  insects  buzzed  dreamily. 
Every  thing  had  come  out  to  see  the  sun.  As 
she  reached  the  bench,  a  man  appeared  in  the 
lime-walk  beyond  the  tennis-court  and  looked 
sharply  toward  the  pond.  He  hesitated*  a 
moment,  and  then  walked  rapidly  in  her  direc 
tion.  It  was  Louis  de  Vere,  and  the  interview 
that  she  had  feared  seemed  imminent. 

As  Donna  sat  under  the  tree,  lost  in  thought, 
a  little  boat  appeared  up  the  stream,  making 
its  way  toward  the  pond.  In  it  was  seated  a  girl, 
whose  face  was  shaded  by  a  broad  Leghorn  hat. 
She  paddled  lazily  along,  stopping  now  and 
then  to  gather  the  half-open  water  lilies,  and 
stretched  out  her  hands  and  fed  the  swans 
as  they  encircled  her  boat.  Sunshine  was 
on  her  flaxen  braids,  and  in  her  heart  joy 
at  the  prospect  of  meeting  one  she  loved. 

As  Louis  de  Vere  came  over  the  bridge,  she 
neared  the  island,  and  drifted  noiselessly 
through  the  long  grass  beyond. 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  looked  down  into 
the  swift  current.  Donna  leaned  against 
the  tree,  forming,  in  her  pliant  attitude,  a  picture 
to  rivet  the  attention  of  any  man.  She  wore 


194  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

a  sateen  dress,  the  principal  tone  of  which 
was  yellow.  Her  head  was  covered  with  a 
rough  straw  hat,  trimmed  with  a  great  bow 
of  red  ribbon,  and  a  bunch  of  red  roses 
was  fastened  at  her  belt.  Her  face  was 
averted.  She  had  seen  neither  Matilda  as 
she  floated  by,  nor  the  man  on  the  bridge, 
whom  she  wished  to  avoid.  He  looked  at  her, 
as  though  to  impress  the  picture  indelibly  on 
his  memory. 

"Donna  !" 

She  started  to  her  feet,  and  turned  very 
pale. 

"  Monsieur  de  Vere  !  " 

"  What  shall  I  say  to  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  There  is  nothing  to  say.  Why 
have  you  sought  me  out  ?  You  were  free. 
There  is  nothing  more  to  say!  " 

She  waved  him  back  with  a  gesture,  and  sank 
on  the  bench  in  agitation. 

"There  is  a  great  deal  to  say,  a  great  deal  to 
explain,  if  you  will  listen,"  he  began  quietly. 

"  You  have  no  right  to  explain,  and  I  have  no 
right  to  listen,"  she  rejoined,  rising  abruptly 
and  facing  him.  "  Let  me  pass." 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  195 

"  Not  yet,"  he  said,  firmly,  as  he  barred  her 
way. 

"You  would  not  keep  me  against  my  will?" 

"  In  justice  hear  me,  Donna,"  he  pleaded. 
"  We  have  our  lives  to  live.  Do  not  let  us  em 
bitter  them  unnecessarily.  You  judge  me 
harshly  now.  You  think  me  false,  and  worthy 
of  your  contempt.  I  must  speak.  I  have 
been  wrong ;  I  have  been  hasty ;  but  I  have 
not  been  willfully  false  to  you.  Oh  !  my  darling, 
it  was  all  a  mistake.  Do  you  not  see  how  hard 
it  is?  Do  you  not  know  that  I  love  you 
madly,  more  than  ever  before?  The  very 
fact  that  I  am  bound  makes  me  a  thou 
sand  times  more  wretched." 

"Monsieur  de  Vere,"  interrupted  Donna, 
"  put  an  end  to  this  farce.  Your  confes 
sion  only  arouses  my  scorn.  There  can  be  no 
question  of  love  between  you  and  me.  From 
the  day  you  asked  Matilda  to  be  your  wife,  you 
raised  a  barrier  between  us  stronger  than 
death.  Stronger,  I  say  ;  for  had  you  died  I 
could  have  mourned  you,  but  now — you  are 
worse  than  dead  to  me." 

"  Donna !    you  are   right.       The   fault    was 


196  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

mine  alone.  Your  harshest  words  can  not 
be  too  strong  to  express  my  feeling  against 
myself.  I  curse  the  day  I  saw  her.  I  curse  my 
own  stupidity.  I  do  not  come  to  you  seek 
ing  to  undo  the  past.  It  is  too  late.  I  come 
to  explain  my  folly.  As  for  that  poor  child,  she 
must  never  know  ;  she  must  be  spared  all  pain." 

"You  sacrificed  me  to  her.  I  had  the  first 
right.  You  did  not  think  of  me,"  cried  Donna, 
bitterly. 

"  Donna,  I  love  you.  If  she  knew  the  truth 
it  would  kill  her.  She  must  never  have  the 
faintest  suspicion  that  I  do  not  love  her." 

"  Why,  then,  did  you  sacrifice  her  life  ?  "  cried 
Donna,  scornfully.  "Why  did  you  sacrifice 
three  lives?  Was  it  caprice?  Tell  me.  No.  It 
can  not  be  undone.  It  can  never  be  undone, 
for  I  have  lost  my  faith  in  you  eternally." 

She  threw  herself  upon  the  bench  exhausted. 

"Donna,"  he  resumed,  "when  I  look  at 
you  my  explanation  seems  weak  and  incompre 
hensible.  I  wonder  at  myself ;  I  wonder  how  I 
could  have  been  so  mad.  I  don't  deserve  your 
forgiveness,  but  I  love  you,  and  shall  to  the 
end,  no  matter  what  you  think  of  me." 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  197 

Donna  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and 
turned  away. 

"  I  heard  last  June,"  he  went  on,  "  that 
you  were  engaged  to  young  Bliicher." 

She  started  up  and  looked  at  him  with  sur 
prise  and  reproach. 

"  We  had  had  no  communication  for  months  ; 
the  source  of  my  information  seemed  trust 
worthy.  It  was  the  general  supposition  at  the 
capital,  and  I  accepted  it  as  fact.  I  suf 
fered  intolerably. .  I  thought  you  false,  as 
you  have  thought  me  since  we  met  on  this 
island  a  week  ago.  When  we  met,  your  scorn 
was  written  on  your  face,  and  I  saw  that  you 
knew  of  my  engagement  to  Matilda.  I  intended 
merely  to  follow  your  example  in  betrothing 
myself.  Imagine  my  horror,  when  I  learned 
from  Uhlheim  that  it  was  your  sister  Lita  who 
was  engaged  to  young  Bliicher.  But  it  was  too 
late.  To  be  sure  I  had  not  spoken  to  Matilda's 
father  ;  still  I  was  in  honor  bound.  Could  I 
betray  that  child's  loving  heart  ?  Never.  I 
loved  you  ;  I  had  never  loved  you  more  ; 
but  I  had  already  given  my  word  to  another. 
You  may  heap  reproaches  upon  me  for  my  lack 


198  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

of  faith  in  you.  Would  that  I  could  make 
amends  !  Don't  you  know  that  it  is  ten  times 
harder  for  me,  my  darling,  for  I  alone  am  to 
blame  ? "  He  threw  himself  on  the  grass 
at  her  feet,  and  kissed  her  hand  passion, 
ately. 

Donna  raised  her  head  and  looked  at  him. 
All  anger  had  disappeared. 

"  Louis,"  she  said,  with  a  broken  voice,  "  you 
should  have  trusted  me.  I  can  say  no  more. 
How  little  you  knew  me — how  very  little  !  No, 
I  won't  add  to  your  unhappiness  by  reproaches. 
It  would  do  no  good.  Matilda  is  as  dear  to 
me  as  if  she  were  my  sister.  Yes,  we  must 
part — forever  !  " 

She  smiled  pathetically,  and  extended  her 
hand. 

"  I  forgive  you  for  doubting  me,  Louis,"  she 
continued.  "  Faith  is  very  rare  in  this  world. 
I  dare  say  I  shall  get  over  it.  One's  heart 
doesn't  break  so  easily." 

"Don't,  Donna!  Don't  be  bitter.  Any 
thing  but  that !  " 

''And  why  not?  It  is  true,  women  do  not 
die  of  love,  except  in  books." 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  199 

A  low  moan  was  borne  across  the  water,  but 
they  did  not  heed  it. 

"You  must  go !" 

"We  shall  be  friends?" 

"  Friends  !  Why  not  ?  Will  not  Matilda 
stand  between  us?" 

Again  came  the  faint  cry,  this  time  more 
distant ;  but  it  did  not  reach  their  ears. 

"Go!"  cried  Donna.  "The  tower  clock  is 
striking.  They  will  be  back  soon.  Louis, 
don't  think  of  me !  Think  rather  of  the  child 
who  is  the  victim  of  this  mistake.  As  for  me, 
I  shall  get  used  to  seeing  you  with  another. 
Oh!  what  had  I  done  to  you?"  she  cried, 
fiercely.  "  What  had  I  done,  that  you  should 
doubt  me?" 

"  Donna,  let  me — 

"  No  !  "  she  interrupted,  "  it  is  too  late  now. 
This  is  the  end.  Do  not  prolong  this  painful 
interview.  Let's  get  it  over  quickly.  Go  !  " 

He  seized  her  hands,  and  looked  into  her  set 
face. 

"  Farewell,"  she  said,  softly,  "  forever !  Be 
true  to  yourself  and  to  her!  " 

And  she  wrenched  herself  free  from  him. 


200  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

Then,  as  he  went  over  the  bridge,  the  little 
boat  drifted  out  of  the  shadow  down  the  stream. 
Matilda  lay  in  the  midst  of  the  water  lilies 
like  one  dead.  Her  hat  had  fallen  back,  and 
its  white  ribbons  were  trailing  in  the  water. 
The  sunlight,  creeping  through  the  network 
of  foliage,  touched  the  pure  face,  and  sought 
in  vain  to  call  the  color  to  the  bloodless 
cheek.  The  swans  sailed  around  her  and 
uttered  plaintive  cries,  but  she  did  not  hear 
them ;  and,  thus  escorted,  the  boat  drifted 
down  the  stream  till  it  rested  against  the  bank 
amid  the  lily-pads  that  lined  the  shore. 


XI. 


A  WEEK  had  passed  since  the  day  when  Louis 
±\  de  Vere  had  made  his  explanation  to 
Donna.  He  had  returned  to  the  castle,  after 
long  wandering  in  the  park,  to  find  a  telegram 
from  the  embassy  in  Berlin,  requiring  his  imme 
diate  return ;  and  an  hour  later  he  left  by 

train    from  W .     Perhaps  he  was  glad  of 

an  excuse  for  postponing  his  interview  with 
Herr  von  Waldbeck ;  but  he  felt  that  the 
day  when  he  must  speak  to  Matilda's  parents 
could  not  be  put  off  much  longer. 

He  left  a  message  for  Matilda  withUhlheim. 
He  could  not  forget  her  pathetic  face  as  she  sat 
amid  the  vines  of  the  veranda  at  Waldruh,  and 
his  heart  was  filled  with  pity  for  the  loving 
nature  so  coldly  thrown  back  on  itself  by  the 
woman  who  should  have  given  her  child 
motherly  sympathy  and  love.  Of  Donna  he 
dared  not  think.  She  was  strong  and  self- 


202  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

reliant,  and  capable  of  endurance.  He  knew 
that  she  loved  him,  but  he  was  equally  sure 
that  no  sign  of  it  would  be  shown  either  to  him 
or  the  world.  As  for  himself,  he  had  made  a 
mistake  and  must  bear  the  consequences,  no 
matter  how  unfortunate  they  might  be,  and  his 
life  must  be  devoted  to  the  guileless  nature  that 
trusted  him.  Poor  little  Matilda  ! 

Thus  he  journeyed  back  to  Berlin,  with  a 
fixed  purpose,  though  a  changed  man — a  man 
out  of  whose  life  the  joy  had  gone  forever. 

Donna  had  seen  him  as  he  drove  toward 

W that  afternoon.  His  sudden  departure 

surprised  her.  She  had  thought  he  would  go 
to  Waldruh  and  speak  at  once  ;  but  the  Kartlow 
carriage  passed,  turning  toward  the  high  road, 
followed  shortly  afterward  by  a  wagon  with 
luggage.  Something  must  have  happened. 
She  would  wait ;  the  news  would  reach  her 
soon  enough ;  and  what  were  Louis's  movements 
to  her?  Had  he  not  gone  out  of  her  life  for 
ever  ?  Henceforth  they  must  meet  as  strangers. 
A  gulf  lay  between  them,  over,  which  they 
could  pass,  not  even  in  thought,  without 
treachery  to  little  Matilda. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  203 

And  so  a  week  passed. 

One  day  the  Strahl  girls  drove  along  the  high 
way.  They  were  exercising  Elsa's  pony,  which 
had  not  been  used  since  her  illness.  Little 
Hans,  sitting  up  straight  in  the  seat  behind, 
was  being  exercised,  too,  though  he  evidently 
did  not  like  the  process.  Berthe  and  Sophie 
chatted  merrily  on  their  drive  over  the  chaussee 
to  Waldruh,  and  as  they  approached  Carlshohe 
they  drew  the  pony  in  at  the  crossing  of  the 
roads. 

"  Shall  we  go  in?  "  asked  Sophie. 

"  There  is  Donna  now,"  said  Berthe,  and  she 
pointed  with  her  whip  toward  the  corner  of  the 
garden. 

"  What  is  Donna  doing?  Donna!  Donna!" 
called  Sophie,  at  the  top  of  her  voice. 

Donna  raised  her  head,  which  was  covered 
with  a  wide-rimmed  hat.  Her  face  was  aglow 
with  color  from  the  sun.  Her  dress  was  tucked 
up  like  a  peasant's.  She  had  evidently  been 
working  in  her  garden. 

They  turned  into  the  road  leading  to  the 
Schloss,  and  Donna  leaned  over  the  fence 
near  by. 


204  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"  What  are  you  doing  ?  "  questioned  the  girls, 
in  dismay. 

"  I  am  laboring,  children.  Do  not  our 
maidens  toil  in  the  fields  ?  " 

"  You  are  crazy  !  " 

"  So  the  family  say,  but  they  gave  me  up  long 
ago.  Mamma  hasn't  done  wringing  her  hands 
yet.  You  know  Anna  is  to  come  out  soon 
after  Lita's  wedding,  and  mamma  is  afraid  that 
my  eccentricities  may  damage  her  career." 

"How?" 

"You  see,  Lita  is  just  the  same  as  married, 
and  it  is  an  even  thing  between  her  and 
Bliicher,  who  is  not  over  clever.  But  Anna — 
yes,  Anna  is  a  darling.  Not  only  is  she  pretty 
and  good,  but  she  is  intelligent,  which  is 
better." 

"  Of  course,"  rejoined  the  Strahls,  in  con 
cert. 

"  Now,  do  you  think  my  working  ought  to 
damage  Anna  in  the  eyes  of  any  sensible 
man?  I  tell  you,  girls,"  said  Donna,  pulling 
off  her  hat  and  baring  her  brown  head  to  the 
sun,  "  I  think  any  man  who  wouldn't  marry 
Anna  because  I  work  in  my  garden  had  better 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  205 

not  have  her ;  so  I  shall  persist  in  my  course, 
as  a  protection  to  my  sweet  sister's  inter 
ests." 

Berthe  and  Sophie  laughed  heartily. 

"  What  does  you-r  mother  say  to  this  plan  of 
yours?" 

"  Oh  !  mamma  lectures  me  ;  and  if  any  thing 
confuses  one,  it  is  lecturing.  When  she  has  done 
I  never  know  whether  I  am  the  guilty  one,  or 
she  herself ;  because  it  is  always,  '  When  I  was 
a  girl — '  and  after  a  while  I  think  that  mamma 
used  to  do  the  naughty  things,  and  that  I  am 
the  model.  After  all,  girls,  there  is  nothing  so 
good  for  the  mind  as  activity.  I  have  run 
Selim  half  off  his  legs  to  ease  my  mind,  and  at 
last  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  unfair 
to  Selim,  because  it  didn't  ease  his  mind.  Now 
I  purpose  a  course  of  weeding.  Would  you  like 
to  try  it?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,"  returned  Berthe,  flipping 
a  fly  off  the  pony  with  her  whip.  "  We  are 
not  overburdened  with  mind." 

"What  are  you  doing  at  Kartlow?"  asked 
Donna  suddenly.  "  Is  there  any  thing  start 
ling  ?  How  is  Elsa?" 


206  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"  She  is  well  again,  though  too  lazy  to  drive 
the  pony.  M.  de  Vere  has  gone." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  quite  indifferently. 

"Yes;  went  back  to  Berlin  suddenly,  but 
promises  to  return  for  the  ball." 

"The  ball?"  interrogatively. 

"  We  are  going  to  give  a  ball.  Think  of  it, 
Donna — a  ball  at  Kartlow  !  But  the  doctor  has 
ordered  us  off  to  the  antipodes  for  some  years, 
and  Victor  thought  it  would  be  well  to  leave 
a  good  impression  on  our  neighbors,"  said 
Berthe. 

"  Yes,"  added  Sophie,  "  it  comes  off  in  a  fort 
night,  at  the  same  time  as  the  harvest  gather 
ing.  October  will  soon  be  here,  and  we  must 
go.  It  was  too  bad  that  Monsieur  de  Vere 
had  to  leave  so  suddenly.  He  would  have 
helped  us." 

"  I  think  he  is  so  handsome  and  charming !  " 
exclaimed  Berthe,  with  enthusiasm.  "  Didn't 
you  like  him,  Donna?" 

"  I  don't  think  I  like  Frenchmen  very  much." 

The  words  came  in  a  muffled  tone  from  under 
the  broad-brimmed  hat. 

"Where  are   you   going?"  she  began,   hur- 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  207 

riedly.  "  I  am  not  doing  the  honors.  Won't  you 
come  in  ?  Lita  and  Anna  are  somewhere  about. 
I  think  they  have  gone  to  ride  with  the  boys 
now.  You  knew  that  Adolph  had  a  new  pony  ? 
Great  era  in  his  life !  Come  in,  do  !  I  can't 
promise  to  entertain  you,  because  I  must  finish 
this  weeding.  Otherwise  mamma  might  not 
think  me  serious." 

"We  can't  stop,"  replied  Sophie.  "We  are 
going  to  Waldruh  to  inquire  for  Matilda." 

"  To  inquire  for  Matilda !  Is  there  any  thing 
wrong?" 

"  Hadn't  you  heard  of  her  illness?" 

Donna  came  nearer.  Her  face  was  grave 
and  troubled. 

"  Matilda  ill !     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Last  week,"  said  Berthe,  in  a  low  voice — 
"  it  was  the  day  Monsieur  de  Vere  left  us — 
some  of  our  field-girls  came  up  to  tell  us  that 
they  had  found  Matilda  down  the  stream  in 
a  boat,  some  distance  below  the  pond. 
She  had  fainted,  and  lay  in  the  boat,  covered 
with  water-lilies  and  surrounded  by  the  swans." 

"  The  Kartlow  swans  ?  " 

"  Yes.     How  she  got  there,  no  one  knows," 


208  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

added  Sophie.  "  They  carried  her  home  on  a 
litter,  and  she  has  been  very  ill  ever  since  ;  even 
threatened  with  brain  fever.  They  thought 
she  might  be  rowing  up  the  stream  to  the 
pond." 

"  But  the  swans  !  " 

Out  of  Donna's  face  every  vestige  of  color 
had  fled.  "Wait !  "  she  cried,  imperiously,  "  I 
will  go  with  you." 

In  a  moment  she  returned  with  her  driving- 
gloves. 

"  Hans,  get  down  and  wait  here.  The  young 
ladies  will  take  you  up  on  their  way  back." 

Hans  frowned,  but  there  was  something  in 
Donna's  tone  that  admitted  of  no  argument, 
so  he  obeyed. 

"  Sophie,  you  are  the  smallest — will  you  take 
Hans's  seat?" 

Impelled  by  a  will  stronger  than  her  own, 
Sophie  scrambled  into  the  little  seat  behind. 

"  Now  give  me  the  reins,  Berthe." 

In  Donna's  hands  the  pony  sped  over  the 
chaussce  at  an  unusual  pace  for  him.  Donna's 
lips  were  set,  and  there  was  an  expression  of 
pain  in  her  eyes.  Oh  !  if  Matilda  should 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  209 

have  been  floating  down  the.  stream  that 
day  !  If  she  had  heard  their  words !  If  she 
had  been  a  silent  witness  to  that  scene  on  the 
island,  there  was  no  hope  for  any  of  them,  and 
forever  Donna  would  be  haunted  with  the  con 
sciousness  that  she  had  dealt  a  death-blow 
to  the  child  who  clung  to  her  in  faith  and  love. 

The  thought  was  horrible  ! 

Faster  flew  the  pony.  Sophie  rocked  in  her 
seat  behind. 

"  He  is  running  away !  "  cried  Berthe,  looking 
with  apprehension  at  Donna's  set  face. 

"  I  have  him  well  in  hand,"  replied  Donna, 
quietly.  "  Don't  be  alarmed."  But  she  slack 
ened  his  pace,  nevertheless. 

Just  as  they  neared  the  gates  of  Waldruh, 
they  overtook  Victor  and  Leopold  on  foot. 

"  I  thought  the  diligence  was  coming," 
observed  Victor.  "  Are  you  going  to  Wald 
ruh  ?" 

Donna  drew  the  pony  in. 

"  I  have  something  confidential  to  say  to 
Sophie,"  called  Victor;  "wait  a  moment." 

The  carriage  stopped,  and  Uhlheim  ap 
proached  on  Donna's  side. 


210  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"  Gracious  Fraulein,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  so  low 
that  it  reached  her  ear  alone,  "  will  you  explain 
to  Fraulein  Matilda  that  Monsieur  de  Vere  was 
called  back  very  suddenly  by  his  chief,  to  Ber 
lin.  He  intends  returning  very  soon,  and  asked 
me  to  tell  her.  I  shall  not  have  an  opportunity, 
under  the  circumstances,  you  understand." 

Their  eyes  met.  She  understood,  not  only 
the  message,  but  that  he  knew  every  thing, 
and  she  read  in  his  eyes  a  sympathy  which 
she  could  not  resent.  Impulsively  she  stretched 
out  her  hand,  and  he  pressed  it  in  silence. 

They  were  recalled  by  Berthe's  exclamation 
and  Victor's  laugh. 

"  Victor,  why  did  you  stop  us  for  such  a  trifle  ? 
Don't  you  see  that  Donna  is  troubled  about 
Matilda  ?  "  whispered  Sophie.  "  Let  us  go." 

The  men  proceeded  on  their  way,  while  the 
phaeton  disappeared  within  the  high  gates  of 
Waldruh. 

Frau  von  Waldbeck  was  walking  up  and 
down  the  terrace  with  a  lace  fichu  thrown  over 
her  head.  She  paused  at  the  sound  of  their 
wheels  on  the  pavement,  and  bent  over  the 
balustrade  as  they  drove  underneath. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  211 

Donna  jumped  out,  and  left  the  reins  in 
Berthe's  hands. 

"  How  is  Matilda  ?  "  asked  Sophie. 

"  Much  better,  but  very  weak,"  was  the 
answer.  "  It  was  foolish  of  her  to  go  out  in  the 
heat  and  attempt  to  row  up  the  stream  against 
the  current." 

Then  it  was  true.  Matilda  had  been  rowing 
up  the  stream. 

"  It  came  from  her  disobeying  my  express 
command,"  continued  Frau  von  Waldbeck. 
"  She  was  forbidden  to  go  to  Kartlow." 

"  Is  she  very  ill?  "  asked  Berthe,  timidly. 

"  Not  seriously." 

Donna  waited  to  hear  no  more,  but  stepped 
through  the  great  door  into  the  hall,  while  the 
Strahl  girls  held  the  attention  of  their  hostess. 
Had  she  been  noticed,  her  opportunity  would 
have  been  lost,  as  Frau  von  Waldbeck  would 
have  prevented  her  from  seeing  Matilda. 

She  hurried  up  the  staircase  to  Matilda's 
door.  She  listened  ;  there  was  no  sound  from 
within.  She  opened  the  door  cautiously  and 
found  herself  alone  in  the  little  boudoir. 
The  door  of  Matilda's  room  was  half  open  ; 


212  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

Donna  pushed  it  wide,  and  stood  like  a 
thief  on  the  threshold.  Her  heart  beat,  her 
eyes  fell — how  could  she  meet  the  trusting  eyes 
of  the  child  she  had  wronged.  And  yet  had 
not  Matilda  stolen  her  lover  from  her?  Why 
did  she  feel  as  though  she  herself  were  guilty? 

The  casement,  with  its  little  cross-panes,  stood 
open.  The  vine  half  covered  the  opening.  A 
bird,  made  bold  by  the  silence  inside,  was 
perched  on  the  sill,  alternately  trilling  a  song 
and  pecking  at  the  bread  crumbs  some  friendly 
hand  had  left  there  for  him.  Matilda  reclined 
on  the  bed,  propped  up  by  pillows.  Her  eyes 
were  closed,  and  the  weariness  of  death  lay  on 
her  waxen  features.  One  hand  was  pressed  on 
her  heart,  as  if  to  still  the  pain,  the  other  sup 
ported  the  drooping  head.  She  opened  her 
eyes  and  smiled  at  Donna,  who  clasped  her 
passionately  in  her  arms. 

"What  have  they  done  to  you,  my  darling?" 
she  cried,  her  voice  choked  with  sobs.  "  What 
has  happened  to  you  ?  " 

"  It  was  the  sun,"  replied  Matilda,  languidly, 
as  her  hands  wandered  over  Donna's  bowed 
head.  "  You  know  I  was " 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  213 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  Donna  broke  in  eagerly. 
"  Tell  me  the  truth,"  and  she  clasped  her 
tighter.  "  Were  you  rowing-  up  to  Kartlow,  or 
drifting  down  the  stream.  Tell  me,  for  our 
lives  depend  upon  it." 

A  troubled  expression  came  into  Matilda's 
eyes.  She  looked  into  the  eager  face  close 
to  hers,  and  knew  that  if  she  told  the  truth 
there  would  be  more  misery  in  the  world.  Donna 
had  been  her  counselor  and  friend.  Should 
she  tell  the  truth,  and  throw  the  burden  on 
her  ?  No,  they  must  never  think  that  she 
knew  their  secret.  They  must  believe  that  her 
heart  had  changed.  The  good  Madonna  would 
forgive  her  for  the  lie.  So,  with  her  eyes  look 
ing  into  Donna's,  she  said  : 

"Donna,  I  was  going  up  the  stream,"  and 
her  gentle  voice  fell  upon  the  silent  air  without 
a  tremor. 

"  But  the  swans.     They  were  with  you." 

"  I  know,"  explained  Matilda.  "  But  I  had 
bread,  and  I  called  them  down.  They  knew  my 
voice  ;  I  had  fed  them  so  often.  It  was  their 
cries  that  brought  the  peasants  when  I  fainted." 

"  I  am  glad,  I  am  so  glad,"  said  Donna,  with  a 


c  14  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

sigh  of  relief.  "Oh!  my  poor  little  girl!  my 
poor  little  girl !  " 

And  she  burst  into  tears. 

"  Don't  cry,"  said  Matilda,  smoothing  her 
friend's  hair  softly.  "  I  shall  be  well  soon,  and 
I  won't  row  in  the  sun  any  more." 

She  had  taken  the  office  of  comforter. 

"  Yes,  you  will  soon  be  well  again,"  mur 
mured  Donna,  drying  her  eyes.  "It  is  absurd 
for  me  to  come  here  and  trouble  you  about 
nothing.  I  could  not  help  it,  Matilda.  It 
shocked  me  to  see  you  so  white  and  still ;  but 
you  will  get  well  soon,  dear — you  must." 

Matilda  smiled  at  her  eager  tone. 

"  I  have  a  message  which  will  make  you 
stronger,"  said  Donna,  lightly.  "  A  message 
from  him.  He  has  gone  away." 

An  expression  of  relief  passed  over  Matilda's 
face,  but  the  other  did  not  notice  it.  She  was 
intent  on  delivering  her  message. 

"  But  he  won't  be  gone  long,"  she  said.  "  He 
will  come  back  as  soon  as  possible,  perhaps  for 
the  Kartlow  ball." 

"Is  there  to  be  a  ball?" 

"  Yes,  in  a  fortnight,  and  Louis  will  be  here. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  215 

You  must  get  well  and  strong.  His  chief 
called  him  away  suddenly,  and  he  had  no  time 
to  say  good-by." 

"  Donna !  " 

"  Yes,  dear." 

"  Tell  Louis  that  I  loved  him  from  the  first. 
Tell  him  that  I  should  have  loved  him  even  if 
he  had  never  spoken  to  me.  He  was  not  at  all 
to  blame.  And,  Donna,  ask  him  not  to  speak 
to  papa  until  I  am  quite  well  again." 

"  But  you  will  tell  him  these  things  your 
self?" 

"  Perhaps." 

"  Why  are  you  so  listless,  child ;  have  you 
told  me  the  truth  ?  " 

"  Did  you  ever  know  me  to  tell  you  an  un 
truth?" 

Matilda's  tone  reassured  her. 

"  Tell  him  that  I  shall  explain  all  some  day 
when  I  see  him  again.  We  must  not  hurry  mat 
ters.  I  am  so  young  that  I  can  afford  to  wait. 
I  could  not  stand  the  shock  now." 

That  was  to  be  considered,  certainly,  for  there 
would  be  opposition  to  the  engagement  on 
account  of  Monsieur  de  Vere's  religion.  More- 


216  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

over,  Frau  von  Waldbeck  would  resent  the  fact 
that  Matilda  had  betrothed  herself  in  secret. 

"  I  will  tell  him  what  you  say,  Matilda.  And 
now  remember  that  you  must  gain  strength  for 
the  ball,  for  you  must  dance  among  the  mer 
riest  with  your  chosen  cavalier." 

"You  have  never  told  me  about  your  cava 
lier.  Isn't  he  coming  some  time?" 

Matilda  turned  her  questioning  eyes  on 
Donna,  who  hesitated  and  turned  pale. 

"I  have  none,"  she  answered  shortly.  "I  am 
going  to  be  a  Stiffs  dame." 

"  Some  day  when  the  man  you  love  asks  you 
to  marry  him,  remember  that  your  little 
Matilda  will  be  glad  of  your  happiness." 

Her  hand  stole  into  Donna's,  and  pressed  it. 

"  Child,  don't  talk  of  me  !  "  answered  Donna, 
gloomily.  "  There  is  no  thought  of  love  in  my 
life." 

"There  may  be  some  time.  And  you  will 
think  of  me  then  ?  Promise  !  " 

And  more  to  humor  the  caprice  of  an  invalid 
than  to  reassure  herself,  Donna  said  : 

"  Yes.  I  will  remember.  I  promise  to  re 
member  all  you  say."  Then  rising  she  added  : 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  217 

"  I  am  going  now.  But  I  will  come  again 
to-morrow  and  each  day." 

"Thank  you,  Donna.  Always  remember 
that  I  loved  you  best,  and  more  than  any  thing 
in  the  world." 

Donna  had  no  word  in  reply.  Her  heart 
was  full.  She  felt  a  foreboding  of  evil ;  but 
then  the  child  had  said  she  was  rowing  up 
the  stream.  If  this  were  true,  it  was  impossi 
ble  for  her  to  have  heard  their  voices  on  that  day. 
So  she  put  the  doubt  aside,  and  went  back 
to  her  weeding.  After  all,  there  was  nothing, 
like  work  to  overcome  one's  grief.  Donna  was 
already  getting  cynical  on  the  subject  of  love ; 
but  in  the  night,  when  the  watchman  called 
the  hours,  her  heart  would  contract  with  pain, 
and  she  wondered  whether  she  would  have 
strength  to  stand  the  ordeal  of  seeing  the  man 
she  loved  with  all  the  force  of  her  nature, 
wedded  to  another. 


XII. 

IT  was  near  sunset,  and  every  thing  was  mov 
ing  toward  the  Schloss.  For  several  days 
the  semi-annual  washing  had  been  in  progress. 
The  old  horse's  burden  of  milk-pails  had  been 
changed  for  baskets  of  wet  linen,  which  he  drew 
with  equal  patience  up  the  road,  while  the 
buxom  maids,  with  their  arms  bared  to  the 
shoulder,  sang  lustily  as  they  rubbed  the  linen 
with  stones  in  the  stream. 

Every  six  weeks  the  ordinary  household  linen 
was  washed  ;  but  the  great  stores  in  the  press, 
the  accumulation  of  brides'  dowries  for  genera 
tions,  saw  the  light  but  rarely. 

Berthe  and  Elsa  were  starting  for  a  walk  with 
Victor  and  Leopold.  They  picked  their  way 
over  the  stones  past  the  washerwomen,  and 
struck  across  the  fields.  The  blue  and  white 
flag  of  Kartlow  waved  in  the  sunlight  as  the 
tower  clock  struck  seven. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  219 

"  We  can  not  go  far,"  said  Berthe  ;  "  supper 
is  at  eight  to-night." 

"  By  crossing  this  way  we  shall  gainthe  road 
to  Prenzberg.  You  have  never  seen  it,  Elsa." 

"  But  I  have  seen  the  other  four  estates.  I 
fancy  they  are  all  alike." 

"  Prenzberg  is  very  pretty,  though  there  is 
nothing  but  a  farm-house  on  it.  We  have 
lived  at  Kartlow  so  long  that  houses  on  the 
other  estates  have  seemed  superfluous." 

"  Look  at  the  sunset,"  said  Elsa,  suddenly. 
"Isn't  it  beautiful  ?  " 

They  had  reached  the  top  of  the  hill.  Prenz 
berg,  with  its  broad  fields,  lay  before  them. 
The  harvest  was  over,  and  on  the  distant  road 
great  wagon  loads  of  grain  could  be  seen  mov 
ing  toward  Kartlow. 

"  Sixty  loads  have  gone  into  the  barns  to 
day,"  exclaimed  Victor.  "  We  are  having  a 
good  harvest." 

"  When  do  they  have  their  harvest  fite  ?  " 
asked  Elsa. 

"  On  the  same  day  as  the  ball  next  week," 
answered  Berthe.  "  You  will  open  their  dance, 
won't  you  ?  Jochen  has  set  his  heart  on  it." 


220  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

Elsa  smiled. 

"  If  you  wish  it." 

"  Are  you  going  to  dance  with  the  peasantry  ? 
I  thought,  gracious  Fraulein,  you  were  alto 
gether  above  such  condescension." 

"  It  is  one  of  our  old-time  customs  for  the 
lady  of  the  manor  to  open  the  harvest  fete" 

"  It  gains  favor  because  of  its  antiquity, 
then  ?  I  should  think  it  would  be  a  bore  to 
dance  with  these  country  fellows." 

"  But  we  don't  dance  with  the  peasants,  but 
with  the  upper  house-servants  and  the  inspect 
ors,"  said  Berthe.  "  They  dance  very  well,  I 
assure  you." 

"  Oh !  With  the  aristocracy  of  the  kitchen  !  I 
understand.  That  is  a  distinction." 

"  Jochen,  our  butler,  is  quite  a  swell.  See, 
there  is  his  little  house." 

Victor  pointed  to  a  small  brick  cottage  in  the 
village  street  through  which  they  were  return 
ing.  "  And  there's  his  good  wife  with  the 
children." 

A  fair  woman  of  thirty  rose  from  her  spinning 
and  made  a  courtesy  as  they  passed,  gathering 
together  a  number  of  white-haired,  healthy 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  221 

children,  who  all  gave  them   a  bow  of   greet 
ing. 

"  Now,  he  has  a  pig  and  a  cow  somewhere  in 
the  back  yard,  and  is  quite  happy,  just  as  his 
father  was  before  him.  Jochen  was  papa's 
favorite  valet,  and  traveled  with  him  for  years. 
He  can  speak  English  and  French,  too.  We 
had  a  lady  visiting  here  once  who  had  an  En 
glish  maid,  and  Jochen  was  quite  a  hero  because 
he  was  the  only  one  of  the  servants  who  could 
talk  with  her.  They  used  to  stroll  in  the  vege 
table  garden  surrounded  by  an  admiring  throng, 
and  I  don't  think  he  got  over  strutting  for  six 
months." 

"  We  so  rarely  have  any  foreigners  here,"  said 
Elsa.  "  We  are  too  far  north.  There  is  little 
to  interest  them  but  the  Schloss  at  Schwerin.  I 
have  never  met  an  Englishman  nor  an  Ameri 
can." 

"  Nor  have  I  met  many,"  said  Victor, 
"  although  I  have  traveled  so  much.  They  go  to 
other  hotels,  and  travel  by  different  routes.  I 
did  know  a  man  who  married  an  American  wife 
and  brought  her  home  to  this  country  ;  his  little 
brothers  and  sisters  were  quite  disappointed 


222  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

because  she  was  neither  an  Indian  nor  a  negress. 
However,  the  Americans  know  almost  as  little 
of  us  as  we  do  of  them.  They  think  we  all  eat 
with  our  knives,  and  are  fat  and  beery.  They 
judge  us  by  the  middle-class  German  one  sees 
at  beer-gardens  and  restaurants,  for  they  never 
see  us  in  our  homes." 

"  Refined  people  of  every  nation  are  alike," 
said  Leopold.  "  They  are  cosmopolitan.  It 
does  not  matter  where  they  are  born  or  what 
language  they  speak.  There's  a  free-masonry 
among  them." 

"I  remember,"  continued  Victor,  "  meeting 
an  Englishman,  not  long  ago,  who  gave  me  an 
English  book  which  purported  to  give  a  pic 
ture  of  our  life  here.  It  was  simply  a  picture 
of  middle-class  life,  very  different  from  ours ; 
but  foreigners  go  on  thinking  our  girls  do  the 
milking  and  the  ironing." 

"  It  would  not  do  them  any  harm,  my  boy,  if 
they  did." 

"  But  they  don't,  Herr  Uhlheim.  If  they  did, 
it  would  be  all  very  well ;  but  it  misrepresents 
us.  Think  of  Elsa,  there,  ironing  collars  and 
milking  cows." 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  223 

"  I  should  never  dare  to  take  such  liberties 
with  a  cow,"  said  Elsa,  laughing. 

"  What  difference  does  it  make?"  said  Uhl- 
heim.  "  Does  not  our  army  command  respect 
throughout  the  world  ?  And  I  am  sure  our 
philosophy  is  famous.  Let  people  find  out 
for  themselves  that  we  do  not  eat  with  our 
fingers,  and  dine  daily  on  sauerkraut.  I'm  sure 
Waldruh  boasts  its  French  cJief.  That  should 
console  you." 

"  It  is  such  a  bore  to  enlighten  people  con 
stantly,"  said  Victor,  "  and  to  assure  them  that 
we  are  not  barbarians." 

"  Don't  enlighten  them.  Make  sport  of  their 
ignorance,  as  the  Americans  do  of  ours." 

"The  other  day,"  said  Elsa,  "  I  heard  Sophie 
tell  about  an  American  who  got  confused  at 
first  by  our  rules  of  etiquette,  and  ended  by 
adopting  them.  When  she  went  back  to 
America,  she  felt  lost  without  it.  It  was 
delightful  to  have  one's  seat  in  the  car 
riage  settled  by  etiquette.  In  her  country, 
two  ladies  stood  before  the  door,  each  begging 
the  other  to  precede  her,  until  the  horses  took 
cold,  whereas,  with  us,  the  visitor  sits  at  the 


224  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

right  behind  the  coachman,  and  the  head-coach 
man  always  drives  a  married  lady.  But  it  does 
seem  absurd  that  an  unmarried  woman  should 
always  rise  and  offer  the  seat  of  honor  on  the 
sofa  to  the  married  woman,  no  matter  how 
young  she  may  be.  I  once  saw  a  girl  of  twenty- 
nine  get  up  for  a  bride  of  seventeen.  Then, 
our  young  girls  must  always  rise  when  a  married 
woman  passes,  nor  speak  unless  spoken  to. 
They  always  kiss  the  married  ladies'  hands  until 
they  are  grown,  and  etiquette  forbids  an 
intimacy  between  a  married  woman  and  a  young 
girl,  or  between  girls  whose  ages  are  widely  dif 
ferent.  There  should  be  a  happy  medium 
between  this  rigid  form  of  German  etiquette 
and  the  English,  which  seems  so  lax  to  us.  Our 
girls  are  so  stiff  and  formal." 

"  I  am  sure  you  are  not  stiff,  Elsa,"  said 
Berthe. 

"  I  ought  to  be.  Thanks  to  Donna,  I  am 
not.  But  Donna  is  older,  and  has  had  more 
liberty.  She  has  her  ideas." 

"  Which  Matilda's  mother  detests." 

"  Yes,  the  Waldbeck  girls  are  fair  specimens 
of  the  German  school." 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  225 

"  I  remember  that  this  American  wondered 
how  we  ever  became  acquainted  with  the  men 
we  married,  since  love  was  a  forbidden  subject 
between  us." 

"  It  is  not  proper  for  a  man  to  speak  of  love 
to  a  girl,"  said  Victor. 

"  Nor  discuss  it  ?  "  questioned  Leopold. 

"  Not  unless  his  intentions  are  serious." 

"  How  does  he  know  whether  their  views  coin 
cide?  " 

"  He  doesn't.     It  is  all  risk." 

"Ah!' 

Leopold  fell  to  thinking  of  the  several  dis 
cussions  he  had  had  with  Elsa  on  the  forbidden 
subject.  Had  she  thought  him  personal,  he 
wondered  ? 

"  I  think  the  English  custom  more  satis 
factory,"  he  said.  "  A  woman's  mind  develops 
through  contact  with  a  man's." 

"  But  she  is  more  inclined  to  be  content  with 
her  husband  if  she  has  not  studied  him  too 
much,"  said  Victor,  laughing. 

"  Oh  !  she  will  still  have  her  ideals,"  observed 
Elsa,  dreamily. 
They  crossed  the  drive-way  toward  the  Schloss. 


226  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

The  clouds  looked  threatening  in  the  west,  and 
the  storks  flew  in  circles  above  their  heads. 

"Do  you  think  we  shall  have  a  storm?" 
asked  Victor  of  one  of  the  shepherds  as  they 
passed  the  road  to  the  outhouses. 

"Yes,  Junker,"  replied  the  man,  as  he  bared 
his  head  to  speak  to  the  master. 

"  Is  every  thing  ready  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Junker,  we  are  ready  to  slip  the  halters 
at  any  moment,  and  drive  the  cattle  out  of 
the  barns." 

"What  does  that  mean?  "  asked  Leopold,  as 
they  passed  on. 

"The  storms  are  very  violent  here,  and  when 
they  break,  the  animals  are  turned  loose  to  save 
themselves  in  case  the  lightning  should  strike  ; 
for  our  thatched  roofs  burn  like  tinder.  Even 
at  the  Schloss  no  one  sleeps  through  a  storm. 
Every  one  is  roused,  dressed  and  ready  for  any 
emergency.  So  if  you  hear  an  alarm,  be  ready." 

"  I  shall !  "  replied  Uhlheim,  as  he  looked  up 
at  the  fair  castle,  with  its  proud  flag  flying,  and 
thought  it  must  not  happen.  And  they  walked 
under  the  broad  portico  into  the  hall,  their  feet 
ringing  on  the  marble  pavement. 


XIII. 

FRAU  VON  WALDBECK  was  preparing 
for  the  ball  at  Kartlow,  and  her  maid  was 
pinning  up  the  draperies  of  her  ball  dress.  A 
fine  woman  was  Frau  von  Waldbeck,  a  beauty 
once,  when  she  was  maid  of  honor  at  the  Ber 
lin  court.  She  was  tall  and  finely  formed,  with 
well  modeled  arms  and  neck.  Her  hair  was 
brushed  back  from  a  prominent  brow,  and 
she  had  a  haughty  air.  Rumor  said  that  she 
had  had  a  love  affair  in  her  youth,  and  married 
Leo  Waldbeck  from  pique,  while  waiting  for 
another  to  declare  himself.  Although  she  soon 
discovered  her  mistake,  she  had  lands  and  riches 
to  console  her.  What  did  it  matter  if  her  hus 
band  laughed  a  little  coarsely  and  cracked  his 
whip  at  the  children's  legs?  He  was  the  scion 
of  a  noble  house  as  old  as  the  land,  and  her 
children  were  well-mannered  and  entirely  under 
her  control.  Time  had  dealt  gently  with  her. 


228  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

Its  flight  had  left  no  trace  in  the  smooth  face 
reflected  by  the  mirror.  Nor  was  there  a 
wrinkle  visible,  although  her  best  days  were 
gone  and  she  was  past  forty-five. 

"  Eine  schone  Frau,"  the  people  said.  Did 
she  not  still  hold  her  own  at  the  court  balls 
and  receive  compliments  on  occasions  from  the 
grand  duke  ?  She  was  a  woman  of  whom 
one  might  justly  be  proud.  She  had  often  said 
so  to  Leo,  when  he  reproached  her  forher  cold 
ness  and  silently  wiped  away  Matilda's  tears. 

Frau  von  Waldbeck's  dress  was  of  rich  bro 
cade,  profusely  trimmed  with  lace.  Dia 
monds  flashed  in  her  hair,  and  on  her  neck 
and  arms.  A  smile  of  satisfaction  spread  over 
her  features  as  she  turned  away  from  her 
mirror. 

"Leo,  are  you  ready?" 

"In  a  moment." 

"And  Johanna?" 

"  Oh  !  she  was  ready  half  an  hour  ago,"  was 
the  answer. 

"  I  will  go  first  to  Matilda,  and  then  join  you 
below." 

"  Agreed." 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  229 

Little  Matilda  lay  on  her  bed.  Two  weeks 
had  not  improved  her  condition.  The  old  doc 
tor  from  W shook  his  head  and  felt  her 

pulse. 

"  Nerves,"  he  said,  with  a  pompous  air. 
"  Nothing  but  nerves,"  and  prescribed  a  little 
sal  volatile  and  a  course  of  baths — artificial  sea 
baths — his  favorite  remedy.  The  gracious 
Fraulein  would  be  benefited  by  this  treat 
ment.  He  drew  himself  up  and  made  a  low 
bow.  In  a  few  days  his  assistant  called.  The 
doctor  was  getting  old,  and  had  chosen  this 
young  man  for  the  succession  to  his  practice 
and  his  daughter's  hand. 

The  young  doctor  looked  gravely  at  the  pale 
face  lying  between  the  pillows,  and  spoke  words 
of  comfort. 

Had  she  no  desire  to  go  out  and  hear  the 
birds  sing?  Did  she  not  anticipate  the  great 
ball  at  Kartlow  with  pleasure  ?  But  Matilda 
shook  her  head. 

"Tell  me,  doctor,"  she  said,  bending  over 
with  eagerness  when  her  mother  left  the  room 
for  a  moment.  "  Am  I  going  to  die?  " 

"  Gracious  Fraulein,  we  hope  not." 


230  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"  I  am  so  thin,  and  I  have  such  a  pain  here," 
she  murmured,  pressing  her  hand  to  her  heart. 
"  I  am  so  tired — so  tired." 

The  tears  came  into  the  young  doctor's  eyes. 
"  What  troubles  you  ?  Tell  me,  and  I  will  keep 
your  secret." 

"Trouble!" 

Matilda  started.  Had  she  betrayed  herself  ? 
"  I  have  no  trouble,"  she  answered. 

And  when  the  doctor's  assistant  went  down 
stairs  he  hinted  that  the  gracious  Fraulein  had 
a  hidden  grief  which,  if  not  relieved,  might  kill 
her. 

"Grief!  My  daughter  a  grief?"  cried  the 
angered  mother.  "  How  dare  you  insinuate  such 
a  thing!  My  child  would  not-dare  to  have  any 
thing  so  improper.  You  may  tell  the  Herr 
Medicinalrath  Steiner  that  I  do  not  desire  your 
presence  again." 

The  young  doctor  went  out  of  the  house 
crushed  in  spirit.  He  thought  of  his  little 
blonde  sweetheart  at  home,  and  wondered 
whether  he  had  damaged  his  chances  with  her 
father  by  his  frankness. 

Matilda  knew  that  the  night  of  the  ball  had 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  231 

come.  Johanna  had  been  there  to  show  her 
self  in  her  new  ball  dress  of  tulle,  embroidered 
with  roses. 

"You  were  silly  not  to  get  well,"  she 
observed,  as  she  held  up  the  lamp  to  get  a  bet 
ter  view  of  her  red  corsage  in  the  little  mirror 
over  Matilda's  dressing  table. 

"  I'll  bring  you  some  bonbons,  and  tell  you 
all  about  it  to-morrow.  Good-night. "  She 
shut  the  door  and  ran  lightly  down  the  cor 
ridor.  The  draught  from  the  door  made  her 
sister  shiver. 

Matilda  drew  mental  pictures  of  the  fete. 
He  would  be  there  in  his  diplomatic  uniform, 
and  Donna,  radiant  in  red  gauze,  with  pop 
pies  in  her  hair.  They  would  dance  together. 
She  could  hear  the  measure  of  the  waltz. 
Oh  !  why  was  fate  so  unkind  ?  She  had  lived 
such  a  little  time,  and  the  world  was  so  hard. 
Love  had  smiled  at  her  for  but  one  brief 
moment.  Her  only  hope  was  in  her  Ma 
donna,  and  the  little  shrine  had  been  closed 
for  a  long  time.  She  felt  her  way  toward 
the  window.  The  moonlight  fell  through  the 
branches,  and  touched  the  cabinet  on  the  wall. 


232  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

Oh,  how  weak  she  was,  and  how  her  head 
swam  !  Her  heart  beat  irregularly.  She  felt 
she  was  guilty  of  a  crime.  A  moment  later 
the  doors  of  the  cabinet  flew  open,  exposing  to 
view  an  ivory  crucifix,  and  Matilda  sank  on  her 
knees  before  it  with  her  rosary  clasped  in  her 
hands. 

Suddenly  she  felt  the  world  slipping  away 
from  her,  and  all  grew  dark  around  her. 

It  was  this  picture  that  greeted  Frau  von 
Waldbeck  when  she  came  to  visit  her  daughter 
before  going  to  Kartlow.  At  first  she  did  not 
grasp  its  meaning.  Her  daughter  on  her  knees 
before  a  crucifix!  Then  her  eyes  fell  upon  the 
rosary  in  Matilda's  hands.  She  was  in  the 
presence  of  a  Romanist !  Her  pride  rose  in 
revolt.  No  one  of  their  name  had  ever  pro. 
fessed  such  a  belief. 

"  Matilda  !  " 

The  terrible  voice  did  not  rouse  the  fainting 
child,  but  a  shake  of  her  mother's  powerful 
hand  brought  her  to  her  senses. 

"What  does  this  theatrical  nonsense  mean?" 
she  cried  sternly.  "  Have  you  lost  your  voice? 
Answer  me  !  What  is  this  ?  " 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  233 

She  tore  the  rosary  out  of  her  daughter's 
hands. 

"  Are  you  a  Roman  Catholic  ?  "  she  exclaimed, 
in  a  tone  of  horror.  "You,  my  daughter! 
What  a  disgrace  !  So  this  was  your  secret,  rebel 
lious  child?  " 

"  Forgive  me  !  " 

The  pitiful  voice  pleaded  in  vain. 

"  Forgive  you  ?  Never  !  You  shall  never  call 
me  mother  until  you  renounce  this  false  faith. 

She  seized  the  velvet  prayer  book,  which  was 
lying  open  on  the  table,  and  flung  it  far  out  of 
the  open  casement  into  the  lake,  where  it  fell 
with  a  dull  splash.  Matilda  uttered  a  low  cry, 
and  clung  to  her  mother's  brocade  skirts. 

"  For  God's  sake,  mother!  " 

Her  mother  shook  her  off. 

"  Don't  come  near  me,"  she  exclaimed,  with 
aversion. 

As  Matilda  drew  back,  her  mother  seized 
the  ivory  crucifix  and  wrenched  it  from  the 
wall. 

"Mother!'  Mother!"  cried  Matilda,  in 
anguish,  "the  Sainte  Vierge  will  punish  you  !  " 

"  The    Sainte  Vierge,    indeed  !  Learn,  then, 


234  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

that  I  hold  the  authority  of  the  Sainte  Vierge 
in  as  little  honor  as  this " 

She  raised  the  crucifix  high  with  both  hands, 
but  her  daughter's  agile  fingers  closed  around 
her  arms. 

"You  shall  not !  "  she  cried,  with  passion,  and 
her  slender  form  was  transfigured  with  her  dar 
ing.  "  You  dare  not.  He  is  your  God,  as  He  is 
mine.  He  will  judge  you,  mother.  He  will 
bring  an  awful  punishment  upon  you  !  " 

The  mother  paused.  There  was  something 
supernatural  in  the  glory  of  the  girl's  face.  Her 
hands  fell  away  from  the  crucifix,  and  she  drew 
back. 

The  moonlight  flashed  in  the  diamonds  on 
her  neck  and  arms.  She  still  panted  with  indig 
nation,  but  the  child  had  conquered.  The  light 
had  gone  out  of  Matilda's  face,  leaving  her 
ghastly  pale. 

"  Forgive  me,  mother  ;  say  that  you  forgive 
me  !  "  she  moaned. 

But  the  mother  drew  her  cloak  around  her 
and  turned  toward  the  door.  She  shot  a  glance 
of  injured  pride  over  her  shoulder  at  her  defeat. 

"  I  will  speak  to  you  to-morrow  when  I  am 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  235 

calmer,"  she  said,  as  she  passed  through  the 
door. 

Matilda  threw  herself  on  the  bed.  Her 
hand  still  grasped  the  crucifix,  but  she  thought 
not  of  it.  Her  heart  was  yearning  for  the 
woman  who  had  repulsed  her.  Surely  God  had 
deserted  her  in  her  bitter  hour  of  need.  The 
cold  ivory  of  the  crucifix  touched  her  cheek  and 
brought  her  back  to  consciousness. 

"No,  I  was  wrong,"  she  murmured,  as  she 
clasped  it  to  her  heart.  "  The  Madonna  is  my 
refuge  and  my  hope." 

Her  breath  came  fitfully  through  her  parted 
lips.  The  moon  shone  in  through  the  window 
and  lighted  her  face,  but  she  moved  not,  for  the 
heart  which  had  suffered  so  much  was  stilled 
forever. 


XIV. 

FESTIVITIES  at  Kartlow  were  at  their 
height.  They  began  with  the  merry-mak 
ing  of  the  people.  Elsa,  the  Strahl  girls  and 
Victor  had  opened  the  dance  on  the  cemented 
floor  of  the  laundry.  The  walls  were  hung 
with  garlands,  and  the  musicians,  seated  on 
a  table  at  one  end,  played  a  national  air  as 
they  entered.  The  ladies'  maids  and  upper 
house  servants  were  the  belles,  while  Jochen, 
resplendent  in  his  newest  livery,  a  pale  blue 
coat  trimmed  with  silver  and  white  breeches 
with  silk  stockings,  was  master  of  ceremonies. 
The  field-girls  were  in  their  Sunday  best. 
They  wore  pretty  colored  kerchiefs  around 
their  necks,  and  danced  with  a  will.  Elsa  led 
with  Jochen,  and  then  danced  with  the  head- 
coachman,  a  serious  person  with  a  grown-up 
family.  Afterward  she  delighted  the  heart  of 
a  handsome  young  peasant  by  treading  a  meas 
ure  with  him. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  237 

The  "Junker",  as  the  people  called  Victor, 
was  flirting  with  some  pretty  maids  in  a  corner, 
and  Uhlheim  stood  by,  looking  on  with  an 
amused  expression.  It  was  not  more  than  half 
an  hour  before  royalty  had  had  enough.  The 
people  were  glad  to  be  left  to  themselves.  They 
felt  restrained  in  the  presence  of  their  masters, 
but  afterward  made  merry  until  the  setting  of 
the  sun. 

It  was  night  at  Kartlow.  Long  strings  of 
colored  lanterns  lighted  the  approach  to  the 
Schloss,  and  outside  the  village  great  torches 
blazed. 

At  one  end  of  the  banquet-hall  was  placed 
the  orchestra  from  W—  — ,  shut  off  by  a 
screen  of  tropical  plants.  The  crystal  chan 
deliers  were  ablaze  with  lighted  wax  candles, 
and  the  parquet  floor  was  polished  so  highly 
as  to  endanger  the  equilibrium  of  at  least  one 
fat  dowager  who  stepped  carelessly  upon  it. 
The  great  carved  oak  doors  were  thrown  open 
into  the  suite  of  rooms  overlooking  the  park, 
while  through  the  French  windows  one  could 
see  the  lanterns  on  the  terrace  and  in  the  gar 
den.  Boats,  each  with  its  tiny  light,  floated  on 


238  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

the  lake,  and  under  the  bridge,  which  was  deco 
rated  with  bunting. 

The  guests  began  to  arrive  as  early  as  half- 
past  eight.  The  country  had  turned  out  in  force, 
for  a  long  time  had  elapsed  since  a  ball  of  such 
brilliancy  had  been  given  at  Kartlow. 

The  former  proprietor  had  lived  very  little 
at  home,  and  his  children,  all  delicate  in  health, 
had  visited  their  native  land  but  rarely.  Six 
years  would  yet  elapse  before  Victor  attained 
man's  estate  according  to  the  laws  of  Meck 
lenburg.  His  father  had  been  a  great  favorite 
with  the  grand  duke,  and  his  uncle,  to  whose 
untimely  death  his  father  owed  his  inheritance, 
had  been  principal  councilor  of  Mecklenburg, 
the  government  being  regulated  by  three,  of 
whom  he  was  the  head.  Thus,  since  festivities 
at  Kartlow  were  unusual,  the  neighbors  had 
come  to  rejoice,  and  those  from  a  distance  out 
of  curiosity. 

The  capacity  of  the  neighboring  Schlosses 
had  its  limit,  so  that  a  great  many  people 
would  seek  accommodation  at  the  hotel  in 
W—  — ,  an  hour's  drive  from  Kartlow. 

Frau  von  Althaus,  with  the  daughters  of  the 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  239 

house  and  Elsa,  did  the  honors.  They  stood 
at  the  entrance  to  the  blue-room,  opposite  the 
hall  doors,  and  received  the  guests  as  they 
arrived.  Frau  von  Althaus  looked  very  hand 
some  ;  her  kindly  eyes  beamed  a  welcome  as 
she  found  an  apt  word  for  every  one.  The  two 
Strahls  were  a  great  contrast — Berthe,  fair,  tall, 
and  finely-made,  of  the  German  type ;  and 
Sophie,  with  her  dark  hair,  clear  skin,  and 
slender  drooping  figure,  like  her  Italian  mother. 
Behind  them  stood  Elsa  and  Donna,  side  by 
side ;  Elsa  in  white  tulle,  looped  with  water  lil 
ies;  Donna  in  red,  with  poppies  in  her  hair. 
They  were  talking  with  Monsieur  de  Vere  who 
had  just  arrived,  and  if  one  had  judged  by  the 
calm  of  Donna's  manner,  he  might  have  been 
some  new  acquaintance. 

There  was  no  evidence  that  she  had  not  con 
quered  herself  entirely. 

"And  is  Fraulein  Matilda  so  ill  then?" 
Monsieur  de  Vere  was  asking. 

"  Here  come  her  mother  and  sister ;  she 
can't  be  dangerously  ill,"  Elsa  replied. 

The  music  began ;  one  of  Strauss's  most 
entrancing  waltzes. 


240  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"  And,  gracious  Fraulein,  will  you  dance  with 
me  ?  "  he  said  to  Donna. 

She  thanked  him  and  declined. 

She  did  not  feel  like  dancing,  and  she  must 
speak  to  Matilda's  mother. 

Louis  de  Vere  bowed. 

"  Perhaps  Fraulein  von  Rabenhorst  will  favor 
me?  " 

"  I  shall  be  pleased  to  waltz  with  you,  Mon 
sieur  de  Vere." 

Donna  followed  them  with  her  eyes. 

"  I  could  not  bear  to  feel  his  arm  around 
me,"  she  thought.  "  I  should  be  a  traitress  in 
thought." 

How  graceful  they  were.  Elsa  fairly  floated 
in  his  arms.  What  could  be  more  natural,  for 
he  was  one  of  the  best  dancers  of  the  Berlin 
court.  She  met  Leopold's  quiet  gaze  as  she 
turned  away. 

"  You  don't  dance?  "  she  remarked. 

"No  !  "  he  said, shortly,  and  she  remembered 
that  he  was  Victor's  tutor.  Did  his  eyes  fol 
low  Elsa  and  the  count,  or  was  it  fancy  ?  She 
advanced  toward  Frau  von  Waldbeck,  who 
was  seated  on  the  other  side  of  the  room,  with 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  241 

Johanna,  bolt  upright,  beside  her.  There  was 
an  anxious  look  on  her  usually  placid  face.  A 
moment  later,  Johanna  passed  by  on  the  arm  of 
Herr  von  Tatow,  and  Donna  stopped  her  to 
inquire  for  Matilda. 

"  She  seems  about  the  same,"  was  the  care 
less  answer.  "  I  think  she  will  be  better  soon." 

Just  then  Louis  de  Vere  and  Elsa  came  back 
from  their  waltz  and  paused  before  her. 

"  Donna,  dance  just  once  with  me,"  he  whis 
pered  in  her  ear. 

And,  before  she  realized  what  she  was  doing, 
she  was  in  the  whirl,  with  Louis's  arm  around 
her  and  his  voice  murmuring  in  her  ear — • 

"  Would  it  might  last  forever." 

She  tore  herself  free  from  his  embrace  and 
rushed  away.  Would  it  be  ever  thus  ?  How 
could  she  have  been  so  weak !  He  followed 
her  on  to  the  terrace  to  beg  her  pardon. 

"  Never  again,"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  gave 
him  her  hand.  "  Never  again  !  "  And  he 
kissed  it  with  passion.  As  they  went  in 
together,  they  passed  Leopold  at  the  door 
of  the  veranda.  He  was  in  a  bitter  mood.  He 
was  alone  in  a  crowd.  By  the  window  above  the 


242  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

veranda,  a  group  of  people  was  discussing  some 
subject  hotly.  Victor  was  among  them.  He 
looked  out  and  saw  his  tutor  standing  on  the 
veranda  alone. 

"  Come  up  here  and  talk  with  us,"  cried  Vic 
tor.  Thus  urged,  Uhlheim  joined  them. 

The  ball  was  at  its  height,  and  the  wild  music 
of  a  Polish  mazurka  floated  through  the  doors 
of  the  ball-room.  One  could  hear  the  clanking 
of  the  spurs  as  the  officers  marked  the  time ;  and 
their  bright  uniforms,  mingled  with  the  gay 
dresses  of  the  women,  formed  a  picture  to  be 
remembered. 

"It  is  midnight,  and  supper  is  about  to  be 
served,"  said  Victor.  "  Let's  have  a  table 
here." 

He  gave  some  orders  to  a  passing  servant, 
and  in  a  few  moments  a  table  was  placed  in  the 
embrasure  of  the  tower  window. 

"  Now,  Elsa,  you,  Uhlheim,  Donna  and  De 
Vere  will  sit  here  and  amuse  yourselves.  I  am 
down  for  the  dowager  countess  of  something 
or  other,  at  the  big  table  in  the  dining-room. 
I  envy  you." 

"  You     irreverent   boy,"  rejoined  Uhlheim, 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  243 

with  a  gleam  of  his  old  humor.  "  The  dowager 
countess  is  sure  to  flatter  you  immensely." 

Victor  made  a  wry  face. 

"  I'll  come  back  just  as  soon  as  I  can,"  he 
said,  as  he  moved  away. 

The  soup  was  served  in  silence. 

"  I  think  this  German  custom  of  giving  a  man 
a  dinner  in  the  middle  of  the  night  has  its  dis 
advantages,"  said  Leopold. 

"  If  one  has  been  dancing,  he  is  hungry," 
returned  Louis  de  Vere. 

"  I  have  not  been  dancing,  and  I  am  not 
hungry." 

Just  then  Count  Hahn,  a  young  officer  of 
high  rank,  approached  the  table  where  they 
were  sitting. 

"  I  don't  know  that  you  remember  me,  gra 
cious  Fraulein,"  he  said,  addressing  Donna. 
"But  I  had  the  honor  of  dancing  the  cotillon 
with  you  at  one  of  the  balls  given  by  the  late 
princess." 

"  Certainly,  Count  Hahn,  I  remember  you 
very  well,"  replied  Donna,  as  she  extended 
her  hand  with  a  smile.  "  Let  me  introduce 
you  to  my  friends  Fraulein  von  Rabenhorst, 


244  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

Herr  Uhlheim,  the  Count  de  Vere,  Count 
Hahn." 

Count  Hahn  bowed  to  Elsa,  and  shook  hands 
with  the  two  men. 

"  And  will  you  honor  me  with  the  cotillon 
this  evening?  I  understand  that  there  will  be 
one  after  supper." 

"Thank  you,"  assented  Donna. 

A  pang  of  jealousy  shot  through  Louis's 
heart. 

"And  will  you  dance  with  me,  Fraulein 
Elsa?"  he  asked. 

"  With  pleasure." 

Again  Leopold  felt  himself  alone. 

With  whom  should  he  have  danced  at  this 
aristocratic  gathering?  And  he  stood  up  by  the 
window  and  looked  out  at  the  groups  of  people 
on  the  terrace. 

"  I  think  I  will  go  and  row  in  a  boat,"  he  said. 
"  I  am  not  an  ornament  for  a  ball-room.  I  will 
become  a  gondolier.  I  feel  quarrelsome 
to-night." 

"  No  one  will  quarrel  with  you,"  retorted 
Louis  de  Vere,  "  on  such  a  fine  night  and  on 
such  an  occasion.  However,  it  is  quite  safe  to 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  245 

quarrel  with  you,  for  you  would  not  give  even  a 
sword-thrust  in  return." 

"  How  is  that  ?  "  asked  Donna. 

"  Herr  Uhlheim  does  not  believe  in  dueling." 

A  shade  of  annoyance  passed  over  Leopold's 
face. 

"  Here  is  a  man,  an  officer  and  a  gentleman — 

Leopold's  quick  look  of  warning  did  not 
escape  Elsa's  eyes.  An  officer  and  a 
gentleman  !  Had  she  been  deceived  then  ? 

"  A  man  who  has  every  reason  to  believe  in 
honor  and  its  vindication,"  continued  Louis, 
remorselessly,  "  and  who  refuses  to  fight  ! " 

"It  is  impossible!"  exclaimed  Elsa,  while 
Count  Hahn  raised  his  eye-glass  to  look  more 
closely  at  this  curiosity. 

"  Why  should  it  be  impossible  ?  "  replied  Uhl 
heim,  quietly.  "  It  is  true,  I  don't  believe  in 
dueling." 

"  Would  you  mind  explaining,  Herr  Uhl 
heim  ?  " 

The  count's  voice  jarred  on  Leopold's  ear, 
and  the  little  pause  before  his  name  irritated 
him. 

He  made  no  reply. 


246  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"  Do  explain,"  urged  Donna,  in  a  kindly 
voice.  "  Tell  us;  enlighten  us.  I  think  myself 
it  is  a  rather  barbarous  custom." 

"Donna!" 

Elsa's    eyes   were   ablaze   with    indignation. 

"  Fraulein  von  Konigsmark  has  explained  it. 
I  think  dueling  a  barbarous  custom,  one  the 
nineteenth  century  should  not  encourage." 

"  And  what  would  Herr  Uhlheim  do  were  he 
insulted?"  asked  the  sneering  voice  of  Count 
Hahn. 

"  He  would  trust  to  punishment  in  another 
way." 

There  was  a  dangerous  light  in  Leopold's 
eyes. 

"  To  the  law  courts,  perhaps ;  a  fine  field 
wherein  to  parade  the  wrongs  of  honor." 

"  It  is  certainly  less  dangerous  to  life  and 
limb  than  the  sword.  I  have  no  desire  to  kill 
men,  I  leave  that  to  savages." 

The  count  flushed  to  the  eyes. 

"  It  is  easy  to  shield  one's  self  behind  this 
sentiment.  Didn't  Monsieur  de  Vere  call  you 
an  officer  and  a  gentleman  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  an  officer,  and  I  hold  it  wrong 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  247 

to  risk  the  life  one  has  pledged  to  the  serv 
ice  of  the  king  in  private  quarrels.  We  are 
sworn  to  fight  his  enemies.  If  for  a  trifle  we 
allow  the  life  given  us  for  some  noble  end  to  be 
destroyed,  it  is  no  better  than  suicide  ;  and  so 
I  repeat  that  an  officer,  most  of  all,  should  not 
make  himself  a  target  for  private  vengeance." 

"Then  he  readily  becomes  a  target  for 
scoffers,  since  a  man  who  will  not  defend  his 
honor  might  be  mistaken  for  a  coward." 

A  quick  reply  rose  to  Leopold's  lips.  Who 
was  this  who  dared  insult  him  in  the  pres 
ence  of  his  friends.  A  man  whom  with 
little  effort  he  could  fling  into  the 
lake  below.  Was  it  because  his  friends 
thought  he  lacked  courage  that  they  passed 
over  Count  Hahn's  insinuations  in  silence? 
Could  Elsa  think  him  a  coward  ?  She  had 
already  turned  away  from  him.  He  could  see 
her  delicate  nostrils  quivering  as  the  breath 
came  quickly  through  the  parted  lips.  What 
could  be  the  opinion  of  the  girl  whose  motto 
was  "  For  honor  all "  ?  To  her  mind  there  was 
but  one  way  of  vindicating  wounded  honor. 
How  she  despised  him  at  that  moment !  She 


248  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

would  have  given  any  thing  to  be  spared  the 
humiliation  of  having  loved  him.  Could  she 
indeed  have  loved  a  man  so  entirely  devoid  of 
noble  instincts  ;  a  man  who  submitted  to  taunts 
from  one  inferior  to  him  in  intellect  and 
bearing  ?  He  must  indeed  be  a  coward.  She 
thought  of  her  young  brother  who  died  for 
honor's  sake.  He  had  been  a  brave  soldier, 
and  this  man's  words  were  an  insult  to  his 
memory. 

She  could  seethe  struggle  in  Uhlheim's  face. 
What  would  he  say  ?  How  would  he  act  ?  He 
stood  by  the  window  with  his  hands  clenched. 
He  could  not  quarrel  before  women. 

"  I  can  prove  to  you,"  he  said  in  a  significant 
tone,  "  that  there  are  other  ways  of  defending 
one's  honor,  Count  Hahn.  It  is  useless  to  dis 
cuss  the  matter  here." 

He  rose  to  pass  them,  and  stood  irresolute 
before  Elsa.  She  looked  at  him  with  undis 
guised  contempt,  but  his  eager  eyes  met  hers 
fearlessly. 

"  Have  I  offended  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  answered  not  in  words,  but  the  aversion 
in  her  look  condemned  him,  and  he  walked 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  249 

out  steadily  into  the  night  with  his  brain 
afire. 

"  Who  is  that  man  ? "  asked  Count  Hahn 
carelessly. 

"  He  is  Victor's  tutor,"  replied  Elsa,  calmly. 
She  seemed  to  take  pleasure  in  depreciating  him. 

"Oh!  indeed?"  returned  the  count.  "Of 
course  a  man  can't  meet  a  fellow  who  isn't  his 
equal,  you  know." 

"  He  is  my  friend,"  cried  Louis  de  Vere, 
springing  to  his  feet.  "And  there  is  nothing 
to  prevent  your  meeting  me." 

"  That  was  well  said,"  exclaimed  Donna, 
holding  out  her  hand  to  Louis.  "Thank  you." 

Leopold  rushed  blindly  away  from  the 
house.  A  demon  seemed  to  follow,  bidding 
him  turn  and  strangle  the  man  who  had  in 
sulted  him.  On,  on,  he  hurried  into  the  depth 
of  the  wood,  beyond  the  sound  of  revelry. 
There  he  sank  exhausted  at  the  foot  of  the 
great  oak  in  the  forest.  He  had  been  branded 
as  a  coward,  and  could  not  defend  himself.  Was 
he  a  coward?  Had  he  lost  all  impulse  of  self- 
defense?  No,  he  had  been  in  the  thickest  of 
the  fight  under  his  father's  command.  He  was 


250  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

no  coward.  He  scorned  the  imputation.  If 
Count  Hahn  wished  to  test  his  courage  on 
the  morrow,  when  he  had  learned  his  position 
at  Kartlow,  he  would  defend  himself  well 
enough.  He  could  laugh  at  the  man  who 
insulted  other  men  in  the  presence  of  ladies, 
but  could  not  forget  so  easily  the  look  of  con 
tempt  Elsa  had  given  him. 

The  wind  moaned  through  the  trees.  A  storm 
was  brewing,  and  the  clouds  were  rising  to 
obscure  the  moon.  A  sigh  rose  and  fell  on  the 
night  air.  It  grew  louder  and  louder,  till  it 
filled  the  woods  with  a  discordant  shriek.  It 
was  the  Hexe  of  the  forest,  imprisoned  in  the 
great  oak  that  stretched  its  branches  up  to  the 
sky.  How  often  had  he  heard  her  voice  before ! 
She  had  bewitched  him,  and  her  cries  meant 
disaster  to  the  house  of  Strahl.  He  closed 
his  ears.  Still  it  sobbed  like  a  weary  child, 
and  sank  only  to  rise  again  till  it  filled  his 
heart  and  brain.  He  fought  against  its  weird 
influence  in  agony  of  mind.  Was  he  going 
mad?  The  night  birds  screamed  at  intervals. 
The  wind,  soughing  through  the  branches  of 
the  great  tree  overhead,  brought  the  voice 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  251 

nearer  with  each  gust,  till  it  seemed  to  sur 
round  him  and  mock  his  pain.  He  turned 
and  fled  up  the  path.  He  stumbled  at  every 
step,  but  still  he  struggled  onward  as  though 
pursued  by  furies.  At  last  he  found  himself 
on  the  edge  of  the  forest,  not  far  from  the 
house.  The  voice  seemed  to  leap  ahead  and 
come  to  meet  him  in  the  form  of  an  old  Norse- 
lied.  He  was  on  the  bank  of  the  stream,  and 
the  castle  loomed  up  dark  across  the  water. 
Hours  might  have  passed  since  he  left  the  castle, 
for  he  was  unconscious  of  the  flight  of  time.  The 
lights  were  out,  and  the  guests  seemed  to  have 
disappeared  as  if  by  magic.  There  was  no  sound 
to  break  the  stillness  but  the  voice  which 
resounded  everywhere.  Its  tone  had  changed. 
The  Hexe  of  the  forest  had  pursued  him  to  the 
edge  of  her  domain,  to  be  replaced  by  a  spirit 
of  light  and  love,  whose  bell-like  tones  seemed 
fraught  with  human  passion.  Now  it  was  the 
garden  scene  in  Faust,  where  Marguerite  first 
breathes  her  love  to  the  silent  night.  The  pic 
ture  was  conjured  up  before  Leopold's  eyes  by 
the  music,  but  the  theme  soon  changed  to  one 
of  triumph,  when  Marguerite,  having  struggled 


252  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

and  conquered,  prays  deliverance  from  her 
earthly  love  and  begs  forgiveness  for  her  sins. 
Broad  and  grand  the  voice  rose  in  its  intensity. 
It  was  no  longer  delusive,  as  it  had  been  ir  the 
forest.  It  was  replete  with  longing,  and  glow 
ing  life.  He  reached  the  terrace,  and  concealed 
himself  behind  the  statue  of  Flora.  One 
glance  at  the  tower  window,  and  he  started 
back  with  a  cry. 

In  the  window,  seated  at  the  piano,  was  the 
girl  whom  he  had  characterized  as  cold 
and  soulless.  She  was  the  embodiment  of 
his  mysterious  voice.  The  power  that  had 
held  him  in  its  thrall  was  no  wicked  Hexe 
of  the  woods,  but  the  fragile  Undine  known 
as  Elsa  von  Rabenhorst,  whose  power  he 
had  laughed  at  and  who  despised  him  as  a 
co\vard.  But  not  the  Elsa  he  had  known ! 
Whence  came  the  spirit  shining  from  her 
transfigured  face,  framed  in  golden  hair  ? 
Was  she  listening  to  the  angels  who  taught  her 
their  songs?  How  blind  and  weak  he  had 
been  !  She  had  been  within  his  grasp,  had  he 
chosen  to  hold  her,  but  now  she  had  slipped 
away  from  him  forever,  to  soar  like  a  bird  on 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  253 

the  wings  of  sound.  The  melody  changed, 
and  was  accompanied  by  stormy  chords,  like 
war  horses  champing  at  their  bits,  impatient  to 
be  free.  Her  face  glowed  with  excitement ; 
her  eyes  gleamed  like  stars.  It  was  the  call  of 
Brunhilde  to  her  Walkyre  sisters — a  wild,  half- 
savage  cry,  that  suited  the  personality  of  the 
new  Eha.  She  sang  with  all  her  power.  The 
clear  tones  rose  above  the  wind  outside,  while 
the  wild  galloping  of  the  winged  horses  was 
represented  in  great  chords  crashing  like  a 
storm  of  thunder.  What  if  she  were  sur 
rounded  by  a  crowd  of  listeners ;  she  sang  to 
his  heart  alone — a  song  of  triumph  at  her  vic 
tory !  Was  she  not  free  from  his  influence? 
The  hour  had  come  when  she  need  fear  it  no 
longer.  She  was  as  unassailable  as  a  rock. 
She  had  conquered  her  weakness.  The  spirit 
of  the  untamed  Walkyre  maid  had  entered  into 
her,  and  she  had  wrenched  herself  free  from 
him  forever.  Did  she  know  that  this  man  was 
listening  outside  in  the  storm?  Did  she  know 
that  she  had  swept  him  away  by  the  strength 
of  her  will?  She  cared  not.  For  months  she 
had  been  pent  up,  powerless  to  express  the 


254  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

emotions  of  her  soul.  Now  the  floodgates 
were  open,  and  she  reveled  in  her  music.  Uhl- 
heim  raised  himself  and  looked  at  this  Elsa, 
whom  he  had  never  known,  and  registered  a 
vow. 

"Proud  girl!"  he  cried,  "you  shall  be 
mine  in  spite  of  yourself!  You  have  sought 
to  elude  me,  but  it  is  in  vain.  Brunhilde, 
you  shall  come  to  your  Siegfried,  and  at 
no  distant  day!  You  shall  learn  the  danger  of 
rousing  such  passions  in  a  man's  soul  as  you 
have  in  mine.  Aristocrat  though  you  be,  you 
shall  love  me,  for  I  shall  conquer!" 

And  the  clouds  hid  the  moon,  while  naught 
was  heard  but  the  cry  of  Brunhilde,  as  she 
came  over  the  mountain  top  on  her  flying 

steed. 

##•$«•## 

The  clouds  grew  blacker.  Thunder 
sounded  in  the  distance  at  intervals,  and 
the  winds  blew  fiercely  round  the  castle. 
The  watchman's  steady  cry  rose  as  the 
hours  struck.  All  was  quiet  in  the  Schloss. 
The  lights  were  out,  and  every  thing  was 
wrapped  in  slumber.  Suddenly  the  storm 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  255 

burst  in  fury  above  their  heads,  and  awakened 
the  sleepers.  Lights  flickered  through  the 
house,  showing  that  the  people  were  awake  and 
stirring.  The  crashing  thunder,  simultaneous 
with  the  glare  of  the  lightning,  seemed  to  shake 
the  very  earth.  One  flash,  more  terrific  than 
the  last,  and  a  cry  rose.  The  bolt  had  struck ! 
Elsa  slipped  on  her  wrapper  and  crept  to  the 
window.  The  darkness  outside  was  intense. 
Hurried  footsteps  were  heard  through  the  cor 
ridor,  and  Berthe  and  Sophie  joined  her. 

"  It  is  the  laundry !  "  cried  Berthe,  as  the  fire 
leaped  from  the  thatched  roof  almost  in  front 
of  the  tower  window. 

"See  !  there  go  the  sheep,"  she  added,  as  the 
shepherds'  peculiar  cry  rose  above  the  storm, 
calling  the  sheep  to  follow  to  a  place  of  safety. 

"Is  there  danger  to  the  animals?"  asked 
Elsa. 

"  No,  not  yet.  The  fire  has  not  reached  the 
outhouses.  The  only  danger  will  be  to  the 
Schloss,  if  the  wind  blows  this  way." 

By  this  time  the  roof  burned  brightly,  and 
they  could  see  the  men  \vith  a  long  hose  and 
ladders  trying  to  extinguish  the  flames. 


256  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"  Oh,  the  storks  !  The  poor  storks  !  "  cried 
Sophie.  "  Their  nest  is  in  danger." 

A  cry  came  from  the  door  leading  to  an 
inner  room,  as  little  Heine  put  his  head  out  to 
learn  the  cause  of  the  noise  which  had  aroused 
him  from  his  slumbers. 

His  pets  were  in  danger. 

Quick  as  thought,  he  wrapped  his  little  coat 
around  him.  No  one  would  think  of  the  storks 
but  him.  They  must  be  saved.  He  crept  out 
stealthily,  fearful  that  Schwester  Elsa  might 
hear  him  and  frustrate  his  plans. 

Five  minutes  passed.  The  fire  was  gaining 
headway,  and  creeping  nearer  to  the  end  of 
the  thatched  roof.  The  flames  licked  up  the 
straw  in  their  progress,  which  was  unchecked 
by  the  heavy  rain. 

Suddenly  a  cry  rent  the  air. 

"  Heine  !  Heine  !  My  brother  !  where  are 
you  ?  " 

Elsa  looked  in  the  little  bed.  It  was  empty. 
Where  was  the  child  ?  She  rushed  back  to  the 
window.  The  fire  lighted  up  the  scene  with  awful 
splendor,  and  under  the  eaves  she  saw  the  child 
amid  the  smoke  and  flame,  trying  to  save  the 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  257 

little  stork  in  the  nest,  while  the  parent  birds 
circled  crying  above  his  head. 

Elsa  waited  to  see  no  more,  but  ran  screaming 
through  the  halls  out  through  the  veranda  door 
to  the  terrace.  She  rushed  into  the  garden 
toward  the  burning  building,  where  little  Heine 
had  gone  to  meet  his  death,  unless  some  brave 
hand  should  intervene  to  save  him. 

All  was  confusion  below.  Victor,  Leopold 
and  Louis  de  Vere  were  in  the  thickest  of  the 
danger.  Even  Count  Hahn  was  sharing  their 
responsibility. 

"Victor!"  Uhlheim  was  saying,  "go  back 
into  the  house,  you  can  do  absolutely  no  good 
here  and  may  kill  yourself." 

"  I  don't  care  !  "  was  Victor's  answer.  "  It  is 
my  place.  These  are  my  people." 

Uhlheim  put  his  arm  around  him. 

"  Be  reasonable !  I  will  do  all  that  you 
could  do.  A  man's  strength  is  needed.  For 
God's  sake,  listen  to  reason." 

At  that  moment  Elsa  came  running  toward 
them. 

"  Heine  !  "  was  all  she  could  gasp. 

She  seized  Leopold's  arm,  and  pointed  up- 


258  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

ward  to  the  roof,  where  the  storks'  nest  had 
been  for  half  a  century.  They  looked  up 
and  saw  the  frightened  face  of  the  child,  who 
was  struggling  with  the  little  stork  as  he 
tried  to  shield  it  under  his  coat  from  the 
flames. 

Without  a  word,  Leopold  sprang  forward, 
and  was  lost  in  the  lower  part  of  the  building. 
In  a  few  seconds,  it  seemed  hours  to  Elsa,  he 
reappeared  in  the  window  through  which  Heine 
had  found  his  way,  and  seizing  the  boy  in  his 
strong  arms  turned  to  descend.  But  escape 
was  cut  off,  the  stairs  had  fallen  in.  Then  they 
raised  ladders  against  the  tottering  walls.  The 
heat  was  intense.  It  seemed  to  scorch  the  air 
they  breathed.  He  at  last  gained  the  ladder, 
and,  after  a  perilous  descent,  reached  the 
ground,  and  stood  beside  Elsa  with  his  precious 
burden. 

Elsa  turned  to  Uhlheim.  What  should  she 
say  to  this  hero  who  had  risked  his  life  to  save 
her  brother  from  the  flames  ? 

She  looked  up  and  met  his  eyes.  There  \vas 
no  response  in  them.  She  remembered  the 
glance  of  silent  contempt  which  she  had  given 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  259 

him  at  the  ball.     In  her  heart  she  had  called 
him    coward.     She   was   stung   with    remorse. 
How  could  she  win  his  pardon? 
"  Herr  Uhlheim  !  " 

"Don't  thank  me,  Fraulein,"  he  said  coldly. 
"Any  one  would  have  done  it.  Do  not  feel 
indebted  in  any  way." 

She  deserved  the  rebuke.  He  had  already 
turned  back  to  direct  the  firemen.  But  she 
would  live  to  repay  him  some  day  in  spite  of 
himself.  Then  Louis  de  Vere  carried  little 
Heine  into  the  Schloss  with  his  lately  rescued 
pet,  while  the  old  birds  flew  around  him  and 
followed  closely. 

To  Elsa  it  all  seemed  like  a  dream.  She  had 
seen  Uhlheim  as  he  crouched  outside  by  the 
statue  of  Flora  the  night  before.  She  had 
hurled  her  defiance  at  him  through  the  medium 
of  her  voice,  but  the  bolt  had  fallen  on  herself. 
Her  power  had  been  invoked  in  vain.  He 
looked  at  her  with  indifference,  and  ignored 
her  thanks  and  evident  penitence.  Had  she 
tried  him  too  far,  and  would  he  ever  forgive 
her?  Now  that  she  was  in  his  debt,  he 
must  be  satisfied.  Despair  at  her  failure 


260  THE  MAGIC  OF  A   VOICE. 

overpowered  even  the  very  feeling  of  thank 
fulness  for  her  brother's  safety,  and  she 
spent  the  hours  until  daylight  in  passionate 
tears. 


XV. 

THE  sun  rose  bright  and  glorious  on  the 
ruins.  The  Schloss  had  been  saved  by 
great  effort,  and  the  only  damage  done  was  to 
the  laundry.  The  animals  and  the  great  out 
houses  and  barns  were  uninjured  ;  thanks  to  the 
brave  efforts  of  the  people.  Several  trees  had 
been  blown  down  in  the  wood,  among  others 
the  great  oak  where  the  Hexe  was  imprisoned. 
Never  would  her  wailing  be  heard  more,  for 
she  had  escaped  to  other  lands  to  bewitch  other 
mortals  who  might  fall  victims  to  her  wiles. 
Heine  still  slept,  exhausted  by  his  recent  adven 
ture.  He  had  suffered  nothing  more  serious 
than  a  burned  hand,  which  would  soon  heal. 
Elsa  appeared  at  breakfast  as  usual.  Leopold 
had  his  arm  in  a  sling,  but  he  made  light  of  his 
sufferings,  and  laughed  off  the  anxious  inquiries 
of  Frau  von  Althaus  and  the  troubled  guests. 
He  was  the  hero  of  the  hour. 

"  Heine  was  right  to  save  the   storks,"   he 


262  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

said  lightly.  "  There  would  be  no  luck  about 
the  house  if  any  thing  happened  to  them. 
However,  I  ought  to  have  anticipated  him  and 
saved  him  a  disagreeable  accident." 

"  How  did  you  find  your  way  up  there  so 
readily  ?"  asked  Victor.  "  It  would  have  puz 
zled  me." 

"Heine  had  already  introduced  me  to  it 
some  time  ago.  It  was  a  favorite  haunt  of  his, 
but  one  could  have  ascended  just  as  well  by 
the  ladders." 

Uhlheim  was  sitting  in  the  window  of  the 
dining-room,  overlooking  the  driveway  that 
led  to  the  Schloss. 

"How  high  is  the  thermometer?"  asked 
Count  Hahn,  as  he  approached  the  great  ther 
mometer  hanging  near  Leopold. 

"  I  once  knew  an  Englishman  who  said  he 
was  all  at  sea  in  Germany,  because  he  never 
knew  how  cold  he  was,  how  far  distant  from  a 
given  point  he  might  be,  how  much  he  weighed, 
how  much  money  he  paid  for  any  thing,  nor 
how  much  he  had  bought  when  it  was  paid 
for." 

"  It  would  be  a  convenience  to  have  weights 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  263 

and  measures  alike  in  every  country,"  said 
Frau  von  Althaus.  "  I  might  add  that  I 
wish  we  all  spoke  the  same  language.  The 
English  language,  for  instance,  is  so  difficult. 
There  are  absolutely  no  rules  for  pronunciation, 
and  when  you  do  acquire  it,  after  strenuous 
effort,  it  sounds  as  though  one  had  a  violent  fit 
of  choking." 

"  Herr  Uhlheim,"  said  Count  Hahn,  "  I  wish 
to  apologize  for  my  conduct.  I  was  laboring 
under  a  misapprehension.  I  could  not  but 
admire  the  manly  courage  you  displayed  last 
night  in  a  trying  moment." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  which  Leopold  grasped. 

His  generous  apology  silenced  any  resent 
ment  Leopold  might  have  felt.  Moreover,  the 
dangers  of  the  preceding  night,  which  they  had 
shared  together,  were  not  to  be  forgotten  so 
readily. 

The  guests  looked  tired  after  the  recent 
excitement,  and  were  already  talking  of  return 
ing  home. 

Elsa  was  pale  and  listfess.  The  experience 
she  had  passed  through  during  the  last  hours 
had  told  upon  her  nervous  force. 


264  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"  We  are  to  go  in  three  days,"  said  Berthe, 
with  a  sigh.  "  It  is  getting  too  cold  for  us 
here." 

"When  do  you  come  back  again?"  asked 
Louis  de  Vere. 

"  Ah  !  when  ?  "  she  answered.  "  Don't  ask 
me.  It  will  be  a  long  exile,  I  fear." 

Her  cheeks  were  beaming  with  health — her 
eyes  were  as  blue  as  sapphires. 

What  had  she  to  fear  ?  But,  even  in  her  gay 
moments,  the  shadow  that  hung  over  her 
brother  and  sister  fell  on  herself.  Poor,  gay, 
laughing  Berthe  ! 

"  To  think  that  the  old  dames  in  the  village, 
who  have  been  croaking  about  the  Hexe  in  the 
forest,  should  be  doomed  to  disappointment !  " 
cried  Victor,  bursting  in  upon  them  suddenly. 
"  The  Hexe  of  the  forest,  our  pet  ghost,  that 
has  done  us  such  good  service  in  foretelling  all 
our  deaths  for  generations,  has  fallen." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  cried  the  Strahl 
girls  in  chorus. 

"  I  mean  that  the  old  oak  in  the  forest  has 
been  blown  down  in  the  storm  and  disclosed 
the  secret  of  our  wailing  Hexe,  whom  we 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  265 

thought  so  justly  imprisoned  for  her  wicked 
ness  within  its  bark." 

"  The  secret !  What  secret  ?  Explain,  Vic 
tor,"  said  Frau  von  Althaus. 

"The  Hexe  exists  no  longer,  her  charm  is 
destroyed.  Know,  then,  that  she  was  a  deceiver, 
like  the  rest  of  her  sex.  Up  in  the  topmost 
branches  of  the  old  oak  we  have  found  a  primi 
tive  ^Eolian  harp,  placed  there  when  the  tree 
was  young  by  one  of  our  eccentric  ancestors, 
and  forgotten  by  later  generations.  There  is 
but  a  fragment  of  it  left,  and  it  is  of  curious 
design,  but  it  served  its  purpose.  When  the 
wind  blew  in  a  certain  direction,  it  uttered  a 
peculiar  wail,  and  the  gossips  in  the  village 
wagged  their  heads  and  predicted  disaster  to  a 
Strahl.  It  will  be  all  over  now.  The  house 
will  be  unassailable  henceforth,  and  the  old 
women  will  be  out  of  business.  Eh,  Uhlheim  ? 
This  should  be  a  choice  bit  for  you  who  always 
laugh  at  such  things." 

But  for  once  Uhlheim  refrained  from  jesting. 
The  Hexe  of  the  forest  was  no  longer  to  him  a 
phantom,  but  flesh  and  blood.  His  experience 
was  too  recent  and  serious  to  be  turned  off  by 
a  jest. 


266  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

Then  a  carriage  was  seen  approaching  from 
the  village. 

"  It  is  the  Rabenhorst  livery,"  observed 
Sophie.  "  Elsa,  your  father." 

But  it  was  unnecessary  to  warn  Elsa.  She 
was  already  standing  in  the  great  portico, 
waiting  to  be  clasped  in  her  father's  arms. 

"Papa!  papa!"  she  sobbed  on  his  breast. 
"Thank  heaven  you  are  here."  And  then  she 
told  him  of  Heine's  adventure,  and  how  he  had 
been  lost  and  saved  by  the  bravery  of  Leopold 
Uhlheim.  After  the  first  greetings  were  over, 
she  led  the  old  general  to  the  broad  window 
where  Leopold  was  still  standing  a  little  apart, 
and  introduced  him. 

"  It  is  impossible  ! "  exclaimed  the  general, 
as  he  grasped  Leopold's  uninjured  hand  in  both 
of  his.  "You  must  be  a  son  of  my  old  friend 
and  companion  at  arms,  General  Uhlheim,  of 
Vienna.  To  think  that  Elsa  should  have  been 
in  the  same  house  with  you  so  long  without 
telling  me." 

Elsa  blushed  and  hung  down  her  head.  This 
man  whom  she  had  despised,  was  the  son  of  a 
general  and  an  illustrious  man. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  267 

"  How  is  this,  child  ?  I  am  glad  to  see  you. 
You  are  like  my  old  friend,  as  he  was  when  we 
were  gay  lieutenants  together.  You  know  I 
was  in  the  Austrian  army  in  my  youth.  So 
you  saved  my  boy  ?  Another  link  in  the  chain 
of  friendship  which  shall  never  be  broken. 
Never.  Your  father  went  off  very  suddenly. 
He  was  a  brave  soldier,  and  his  memory  is  an 
honor  to  his  son." 

Leopold's  heart  was  too  full  to  speak.  He 
grasped  the  hand  of  Elsa's  father  in  silence. 
His  father  had  risen  from  the  ranks  by  force  of 
will  to  a  high  position  in  the  army.  This 
tribute  to  his  memory  from  a  soldier  and  the 
head  of  a  noble  house,  made  in  the  presence  of 
the  girl  who  had  despised  him  because  of  his 
position,  was  a  triumph  indeed,  but  Leopold 
felt  only  sorrow  for  her  humiliation.  He  knew 
that  her  heart  was  noble  and  true,  and  her 
faults  were  those  of  training  or  pride. 

"We  are  glad  to  have  you  introduce  Herr 
Uhlheim  properly,"  said  Frau  von  Althaus, 
while  the  guests  witnessed  the  scene  in  inter 
ested  silence.  "  He  has  been  so  obstinate  in  re 
fusing  to  let  me  say  a  word  about  his  history." 


268  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

"Why?" 

"  Because,  Herr  General,"  explained  Leo 
pold,  "  I  was  here  as  Victor's  tutor." 

"As  Victor's  tutor!  "  echoed  the  general,  in 
surprise. 

"Yes,  since  my  father's  financial  disaster,  I 
have  had  to  work.  I  could  not  be  an  idler.  Per 
haps  I  wished  to  be  taken  on  my  own  merits," 
he  said,  smiling. 

"  A  great  mistake,  my  son,"  said  the  old  man. 
"Your  merits  may  be  great,  but  your  father's 
were  greater." 

And  Leopold  thanked  fortune  that  the  imme 
diate  cause  of  his  father's  death  \vas  unknown. 
His  name  was  still  honored  among  men.  The 
world  never  guessed  his  secret,  for  his  son 
had  saved  his  father's  memory  from  suspi 
cion. 

"  I  have  come  to  take  Elsa  home.  Fraulein 
von  Klein  is  worn  quite  to  a  shadow  from 
loneliness.  Are  you  ready,  Elsa  ?  " 

"  Quite,  papa." 

"  Wake  Heine  and  prepare  then." 

"  I  am  afraid  we  shall  have  to  take  the  storks 
too." 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  269 

"We  have  pets  enough  at  home,"  growled 
the  old  general. 

"  There's  the  old  nest  on  the  stables,"  sug 
gested  Elsa. 

"  Oh  !  We'll  transplant  them,  then,  since  the 
Kartlow  nest  is  burned.  May  they  thrive  !  " 

"Then,  Herr  Uhlheim,  we  shall  see  you  at 
Rabenhorst,"  added  the  general,  as  he  shook 
hands  with  Leopold. 

"  With  your  permission,  some  time." 

"  Nay,  some  time  is  no  time.  Let  it  be  next 
week." 

"  Thank  you  !  "  answered  Leopold. 


The  Rabenhorst  carriage  had  driven  up,  and 
the  inmates  of  Kartlow  stood  at  the  door, 
ready  to  bid  the  general  and  his  daughter  God 
speed  on  their  journey.  Elsa  alone  was  miss 
ing.  Uhlheim  saw  her  from  his  window  as  she 
stood  on  the  terrace  with  drooping  head,  as 
though  taking  farewell  of  the  scene  where  she 
had  passed  so  many  happy  days.  An  impulse 
seized  him  to  go  down  and  speak  with  her,  to 
learn  from  her  last  words  whether  she  loved 


270  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

him.  Would  she  give  him  a  word  of  reassurance 
to  brighten  the  days  of  separation  that  must 
ensue?  For  this  Elsa,  revealed  through  the 
voice,  he  would  strive  to  win  renown. 

When  he  reached  the  veranda  she  had  paused 
at  the  foot  of  the  steps  to  pick  a  rose.  Her 
face  was  averted,  but  she  was  conscious  of  his 
presence,  and  the  color  stole  into  her  cheek. 

"  Gnadiges  Fraulein,  I  come  to  say  good-by. 
We  part  in  a  moment,  each  to  go  his  way." 
His  voice  fell.  Where  was  his  assurance? 

"  Was  this  all  he  had  to  say?  "  she  thought, 
with  a  sinking  heart.  Yes,  they  must  part  as 
casual  acquaintances. 

"  I  am  going  very  far  away,"  he  continued, 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  You  are  going  away? "she  said  quickly.  Of 
course,  he  could  not  stay  at  Kartlow  after  they 
had  all  gone.  But  it  occurred  to  her  with 
renewed  force,  that  when  the  Strahls  were  gone 
there  would  be  nothing  to  bring  him  back  to 
Mecklenburg. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  looking  off  at  the  dis 
tant  park.  "  My  life  has  been  useless  and  self 
ish.  But  now  I  have  found  an  aim  to  live  and 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  271 

work  for.  Tell  me  that  you  will  think  of  me," 
he  said,  turning  toward  her. 

"  You  saved  my  brother's  life,"  she  faltered. 

"  I  don't  want  your  gratitude,"  he  cried. 
"Are  you  not  the  voice?" 

"  But  the  voice  may  be  a  false  guide.  We 
sing  of  what  we  would  be,  not  of  what  we 
are." 

"Then  you  understood  my  story?" 

"  You  told  it  by  the  pond.  I  fancied  you 
might  have  heard  me  singing  to  poor  Stina  on 
the  night  she  died." 

"You  sang  to  me.  It  was  fate.  If  you  knew 
this,  why  did  you  not  reveal  yourself?" 

"  Why  should  I,  Herr  Uhlheim?  "she  replied, 
with  a  touch  of  her  old,  haughty  manner. 

"True,  you  could  not  know  what  it  meant  to 
me.  I  am  going  away  to  a  distant  land  to  win 
laurels  or  die." 

She  raised  her  head  quickly  and  met  his 
eyes.  To  win  laurels  or  die !  What  did  he 
mean? 

Then  it  flashed  over  her.  He  would  risk  his 
life  to  win  laurels  for  her.  He  loved  her  and 
would  do  her  honor.  The  world  was  bright 


272  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

again,  the  birds  sang  in  her  ears,  and  her  heart 
was  in  a  tumult. 

"Oh!  no,"  she  cried.  "  The  laurels  would  be 
but  withered  leaves  if  they  were  won  at  the 
cost  of  your  life." 

"  But  I  shall  bear  a  charmed  life,"  he  returned, 
seizing  her  hand  and  pressing  it  to  his  lips, 
"  if  you  will  think  of  me." 

Her  lips  half  parted  in  a  smile;  he  looked 
into  the  depths  of  her  fearless  eyes  and  read  her 
answer. 

Then  she  escaped  from  his  grasp  and  reached 
the  door.  Here  she  turned  to  look  at  him,  and 
it  was  thus  that  he  remembered  her  during  long 
months  of  exile.  And  when  the  Rabenhorst 
carriage  drove  through  the  Kartlow  gates,  fol 
lowed  by  good  wishes,  Donna  came  speeding  on 
her  horse  to  tell  them  at  Kartlow  that  Matilda 
was  dead. 


XVI. 

WHEN  Frau  von  Waldbeck  came  home 
from  the  ball  at  Kartlow,  a  desire  to  see 
her  rebellious  child  rose  in  her  heart.  For  the 
first  time  in  her  life  she  had  a  doubt  as  to  the 
justice  of  her  course.  Something  in  Matilda's 
defiant  attitude  as  she  raised  the  crucifix 
filled  the  imperious  mother  with  awe.  She  was 
suddenly  confronted  with  her  own  spirit  in  the 
daughter.  The  wind  blew  fiercely  outside,  as 
she  crept  through  the  silent  house  to  Matilda's 
room.  The  lattice  swung  violently  back  and 
forth,  but  the  noise  did  not  wake  the  sleeper. 
Her  mother  closed  the  blind  with  difficulty,  and 
bent  over  the  bed.  She  shaded  the  candle 
with  her  hand,  and  bent  lower.  Then  a  shriek 
resounded  through  the  corridors  and  roused  the 
household. 

Matilda  was  dead.     Her  life  had  gone  out 


274  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

like  the  flickering  flame  of  a  spent  candle,  and 
she  was  insensible  to  her  mother's  caresses. 

The  proud  woman  shut  herself  up  with  her 
grief.  What  happened  in  that  desolate  cham 
ber  no  one  ever  knew,  but  when  the  sun  was 
high  in  the  heavens  the  door  of  Matilda's  little 
sitting-room  opened  and  the  bereaved  mother 
stepped  forth,  a  changed  woman.  There  was  no 
trace  of  tears  on  the  pale  face.  It  bore  the 
calmness  of  despair.  No  one  should  see  her 
weep.  She  would  bear  her  grief  alone. 

She  sent  for  Donna,  and  it  was  nearly  noon 
when  she  arrived. 

Matilda  lay  with  the  crucifix  still  in  her 
hands.  So  she  had  died.  So  should  she 
be  buried.  The  eyes  were  closed,  and  a 
smile  played  round  the  plaintive  mouth.  Her 
long  hair  was  combed  and  braided.  No  hand 
had  touched  her  but  her  mother's,  for  the 
little  offices,  refused  in  life,  had  been  voluntarily 
given  in  death. 

Donna  fell  on  her  knees  beside  the  bed,  and 
burst  into  violent  sobbing. 

The  mother  eyed  her  curiously,  for  she  could 
weep. 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  275 

"  My  poor  little  darling,"  Donna  murmured. 
"To  die  thus,  all  alone,  while  we  were  dancing  ! 
It  is  terrible." 

"  She  was  not  alone,"  answered  the  mother, 
as  she  pointed  to  the  crucifix. 

"  I  have  sent  for  you,  Donna,"  she  began, 
with  effort,  "  to  know  my  child's  secret.  What 
killed  her?" 

Donna  rose  to  her  full  height,  her  face  was 
clouded.  Did  this  cruel  woman  not  know 
what  had  killed  her  daughter? 

"  Don't  ask  me,"  she  replied,  scornfully. 
"  Don't  have  me  tell  you  all,  for  it  would  make 
your  hair  turn  gray,  and  God  has  punished  you 
enough." 

Frau  von  Waldbeck  raised  her  hand  as 
though  to  ward  off  a  blow. 

"  I  know  all  you  would  say.  It  is  unneces 
sary.  What  was  her  need  ?  Wherein  did  I 
fail?" 

She  appealed  to  Donna,  almost  humbly. 

"  What  drove  her  to  that  ?  "  she  questioned, 
pointing  to  the  broken  rosary  on  the  floor. 
"  There  must  have  been  some  reason." 

"  She   told    me,    poor   child,  that   you    had 


276  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

denied  her  a  mother's  love,"  and  Donna's  voice 
was  broken  by  sobs.  "  She  said  she  had  turned 
to  the  Mother  of  God  because  she  had  no 
mother  on  earth." 

"Not  that,  not  that,  Donna." 

"  Yes,  every  word  is  true.  Oh  !  did  you  not 
think  when  the  child  came  to  you  and  clasped 
her  arms  around  your  neck — did  you  not  think 
that  your  coldness  would  drive  her  to  seek  love 
elsewhere?  She  could  not  live  without  love, 
and  she  died  for  lack  of  it." 

"  I  can  not  bear  this,  Donna.  Perhaps  you 
are  right ;  but  it  is  so  sudden,  so  sudden.  I 
must  get  accustomed  to  the  thought  that  she  is 
gone — forever,  and  that  I  can  make  no  repara 
tion  in  this  world." 

She  stood  by  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  clasped 
her  hands  in  agony. 

"  You  are  sure  that  she  had  no  other  grief. 
The  doctor  thought  she  might  have  had  some 
secret  trouble.  Is  this  all  you  have  to  tell 
me?" 

Donna  hesitated.  She  had  no  proof  of  the 
sorrow  hidden  so  carefully  by  the  unselfish 
child  for  fear  of  hurting  her  best  friend,  and 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  277 

since  Matilda  had  not  confided  the  secret  of 
her  love  to  her  mother,  why  should  she  tell  it? 
It  was  dead  with  her. 

"  You  do  not  answer."  Her  voice  was 
unnatural  in  its  calmness. 

"  If  she  had  any  thing  else  on  her  mind,  I  did 
not  share  her  confidence,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Donna,  I  may  have  misjudged  you  in  times 
past.  Pardon  me.  I  thank  you  for  your  kind 
ness  to  my  little  girl — my  poor  little  Matilda!" 

Her  voice  broke  as  she  spoke  the  name. 

"  Of  course  it  is  better  for  her.  She  did  not 
know  the  world.  She  had  not  suffered.  See 
how  calmly  she  sleeps !  Like  a  child.  You 
will  come  again,  some  day  when  I  am  stronger." 

She  held  out  her  hand  and  Donna  kissed  it. 

"  Dear  Frau  von  Waldbeck,  let  me  do  some 
thing  for  you.  Any  thing  in  this  world." 

But  Matilda's  mother  waved  her  back  with 
dignity. 

"  Thank  you.  I  may  ask  you  some  time  for 
Matilda's  sake,  but  now " 

Donna  felt  herself  dismissed.  Stooping,  she 
pressed  one  kiss  on  the  fair  brow  of  the  dead 
girl  and  went  quickly  away.  She  did  not  see 


278  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE, 

Frau  von  Waldbeck  again  until  after  the  funeral. 
The  child  lay  on  her  bier,  as  she  had  been  found 
that  fatal  day  at  Kartlow,  in  a  bed  of  water- 
lilies,  her  favorite  flower.  And  as  the  long  pro 
cession  of  carriages  drove  slowly  toward  the 
cemetery,  Donna  sought  Matilda's  mother  in 
her  chamber.  Her  imperious  manner  had  dis 
appeared,  and  her  tone  was  subdued.  She 
moved  as  though  in  a  dream,  seeming  hardly 
conscious  of  her  surroundings. 

The  day  after  the  funeral  Kartlow  was  closed 
for  an  indefinite  period.  The  Strahls  had  waited 
to  attend  Matilda's  funeral,  and  then  left  for  the 
South.  Donna  had  seen  Louis  de  Vere  at  the 
services,  but  she  had  not  spoken  to  him.  It 
seemed  treachery  to  the  dead.  Possibly  at  the 
moment  when  they  had  been  dancing  at  the 
Kartlow  ball  together,  Matilda  was  breathing 
her  last  in  that  silent  chamber,  alone  and  for 
gotten. 

She  hardly  dared  raise  her  eyes  to  recognize 
him.  Her  whole  mind  was  engrossed  in  Matil 
da's  dying  hours.  As  yet  she  had  given  no 
thought  to  the  future.  Elsa  had  already  gone 
back  to  Rabenhorst.  Uhlheim  had  disappeared 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  279 

from  Kartlow — called  away,  no  one  knew 
whither.  Desolation  seemed  to  have  fallen  on 
the  country  where  they  had  been  so  merry 
during  two  months  of  summer. 

Lita's  wedding  passed  off  quietly,  and  as  the 
winter  came  on,  Anna  was  presented  at  the 
Court  of  Schwerin  and  very  favorably  received. 

Later  Donna  went  to  visit  one  of  the  late 
Princess  Caroline's  maids  of  honor,  who 
was  married  in  Berlin.  Here  she  met  Janette 
de  Vere,  but  she  did  not  meet  Louis.  He 
seemed  tacitly 'to  understand  that  the  time  had 
not  yet  come  when  she  could  see  him. 

The  winter  sped  away.  Elsa  lived  at  Raben- 
horst  very  much  as  formerly.  She  made  light 
of  her  father's  suggestion  that  she  should  go 
to  Schwerin  and  be  presented  at  court  with  her 
young  friends.  She  was  quite  happy  at  Raben- 
horst  with  Heine  and  her  music.  Next  year 
would  do  as  well  ;  she  still  had  time  before  her. 
She  had  heard  that  Leopold  had  joined 
the  English  army  in  the  East,  through  some 
vague  allusion  from  Berthe  Strahl,  who  wrote 
from  Madeira.  Cheerful,  hopeful  letters  they 
were.  Victor  had  given  up  his  violin  because 


28o  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

it  reminded  him  of  Mecklenburg,  and  "  Heim- 
weh"  was  an  unpleasant  malady.  They  were 
all  quite  well  and  enjoying  the  balmy  air,  so 
different  from  the  cold  of  the  North.  During 
the  long  winter  evenings  Elsa  spun  by  the  fire 
side,  and  the  old  Fraulein  nodded  beside  her, 
just  as  she  had  done  last  year  and  the  years 
before.  Heine,  grown  taller  and  stronger  since 
the  adventure  at  Kartlow,  came  and  begged 
for  his  stork  stories,  and  Elsa  would  stop 
her  spinning  and  weave  a  fantastic  tale  to 
suit  his  fancy.  His  pets  had  long  since 
flown  south.  It  was  a  question  whether  they 
would  return  next  year  to  Kartlow,  as  of  yore, 
or  find  their  way  back  to  their  new  home 
in  the  peaked  roof  of  the  stables  at  Raben- 
horst.  In  the  stormy  nights,  when  the  surf 
dashed  against  the  cliff,  Elsa  would  recall  her 
childish  fancies.  Her  voice  was  never  restricted 
now.  It  rang  through  the  silent  Schloss  in  the 
evening  till  the  peasant  would  turn  in  his 
bed  and  wonder  if  he  had  heard  the  mermaids 
singing  in  his  dreams.  Fraulein  von  Klein 
would  start  and  pick  up  the  stitches  she  had 
dropped,  muttering  that  the  girl  was  crazy  ever 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  281 

since  her  wild  visit  to  Kartlow,  where  she  had 
met  the  strange  tutor  with  a  history.  The  gen-" 
eral  was  never  tired  of  talking  about  Leopold, 
and  whenever  he  saw  his  name  in  the  papers  as 
foremost  in  the  fight  he  would  say,  "  He  was 
a  brave  lad,  just  like  his  father." 

But  there  were  brave  lads  enough  in  good 
old  Mecklenburg,  with  lands  and  titles,  who 
would  be  proud  to  unite  their  riches  and  ancient 
lineage  with  those  of  a  Rabenhorst.  Still  Elsa 
sang  on  and  heeded  not  the  Fraulein's  grumb 
ling. 

Well  she  knew  that  her  husband  would  be  no 
lord  of  Mecklenburg,  since  she  was  fated  for 
weal  or  woe  to  love  a  dark  and  handsome 
stranger,  who  had  neither  land  nor  titles  to  his 
name  ;  she  had  cast  aside  all  repression,  and 
roamed  through  the  house  singing  a  love  song, 
or  scoured  the  country  on  horseback  to  quiet  her 
restless  spirit.  However,  she  was  not  unhappy. 
He  would  come  some  day,  and  she  must  await 
his  coming  with  patience. 

The  winter  snows  had  melted,  and  the  birds 
were  singing  in  the  budding  trees.  Spring  had 
come.  One  day  early  in  April,  Elsa  received  a 


282  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

letter  from  Donna,  telling,  what  Elsa  had  long 
suspected,  her  love  for  Louis  de  Vere.  "  He 
has  been  appointed  to  the  Russian  court,  and 
we  are  going  together.  I  am  happy,  so  happy  !  " 
and  that  was  all. 

The  same  mail  brought  the  news  of  Berthe 
von  Strahl's  death,  like  a  bolt  from  a  clear  sky. 
A  sudden  hemorrhage,  and  all  was  over.  Frau 
von  Althaus  would  take  Victor  and  Sophie  to 
Algiers  the  following  winter.  "  Further  and  fur 
ther  from  the  Heimath,"  cried  Elsa.  ' '  Will  they 
ever  return  ?  "  and  she  drove  over  to  the  silent 
Schloss  at  Kartlow  as  to  a  tomb. 

She  came  back  to  the  "  Raven's  Nest  "  with 

9 

sadness  in  her  heart.  They  would  never  be 
together  again  as  in  that  happy  summer!  The 
thought  oppressed  her.  She  avoided  the 
house,  and  passed  through  the  garden.  For  the 
first  time  in  her  life,  her  home  seemed  desolate^ 
and  her  courage  failed.  Suppose  he  should 
never  come  again !  Suppose  he  should  be 
struck  down  and  die  without  knowing  that  she 
loved  him  !  She  ran  up  the  rocks  ;  the  surf 
dashed  against  the  cliff  and  rose  in  clouds  of 
spray  almost  to  her  feet.  A  mist  was  coming 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  283 

in  from  the  sea,  and  enveloping  the  land. 
Usually  the  ocean  aroused  her  spirits,  but 
to-day  she  was  seized  with  a  presentiment  of 
evil.  He  was  dead!  Never  would  he  come 
again  !  Oh  !  it  was  cruel !  She  reviewed  her 
life  at  Kartlow.  Each  barbed  word  she  had 
uttered  arose  to  confront  her.  How  she  had 
misjudged  him  !  But  her  voice,  in  the  night, 
when  she  thought  the  world  asleep,  had 
reached  his  ears. 

He  had  read  her  soul  without  knowing  who 
was  singing.  Then  she  had  held  him  in  her 
power.  Why  not  now  ?  If  he  were  dead,  her 
voice  would  draw  his  soul  to  hers.  She  must 
see  him  once  again,  if  only  to  tell  him  that  she 
had  always  loved  him,  even  when  she  was  most 
cruel.  And  amid  the  thundering  surf  as  it 
dashed  against  the  cliff,  her  lovely  voice  rose 
in  a  song  of  love  and  death,  piteous  and 
intense,  so  that  the  very  sea-gulls  seemed  to 
pause  and  listen.  She  clasped  her  hands  above 
her  beating  heart,  and  sent  a  prayer  out  over 
the  waves,  and  a  message  to  the  man  she  loved. 
It  was  the  same  Norse  melody  that  had  reached 
his  ear  on  the  night  he  lingered  by  the  hut. 


284  THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE. 

Surely  it  must  bring  him  back  to  her  once 
more.  Oh !  if  he  knew  the  bitterness  of  her 
regret,  he  would  come  back  to  her  even  from 
the  grave.  The  mist  lifted.  Did  her  eyes 
deceive  her?  for  at  the  foot  of  the  rocks  she 
saw  a  shadowy  form.  His  eyes  were  fixed 
on  her  with  doubt  and  longing,  he  was  pale  to 
the  lips,  his  head  was  bare,  and  the  brown 
hair  curled  about  his  damp  brow  ;  his  whole 
soul  seemed  concentrated  in  that  questioning 
look.  Yes,  he  was  dead,  but  her  voice  had 
called  his  spirit  from  over  the  sea,  to  meet  hers 
once  more. 

The  mist  sank  and  shut  him  out  again  ;  still 
she  did  not  falter.  The  wild  cry  of  the 
Walkyre  rose  upon  the  air.  She  would  call  so 
fiercely  that  the  waves  could  not  close  over 
him.  Her  power  should  hold  him  even  as  the 
Lorelei's,  till  he  rose  to  be  clasped  in  her 
embrace  forever.  Stimulated  by  her  love  and 
fear,  she  sang  with  almost  supernatural  strength 
the  cry  of  Brunhilde  on  the  mountains,  till 
the  mist  lifted  again  as  if  at  her  command. 
Her  strength  was  failing  ;  would  he  slip  away 
from  her  forever?  Her  voice  sank  to  the 


THE  MAGIC  OF  A    VOICE.  285 

pathetic  Norselied  he  knew  so  well.  She 
had  sung  it  at  Kartlow  when  he  had  known  her 
only  as  a  voice  ;  it  was  heart-breaking  in  its 
strain.  Yes,  he  was  there,  nearer  and  nearer 
he  came.  She  could  see  him  distinctly,  covered 
with  orders,  which  glittered  as  he  moved. 
How  pale  and  changed  he  was,  only  his  eyes 
seemed  alive,  looking  at  her  with  intense 
longing.  Still  she  sang  on,  and,  stretching  out 
her  arms  to  him,  her  face  transfigured  by  love 
and  despair,  she  cried  : 

"  Is  it  thou,  my  beloved?     Come." 
With  one  bound  he  was  beside  her,  his  arms 
closed  around  her,  his  lips  were  pressed  to  hers, 
and  with  a  cry  she  fainted  in  his  arms. 

Yes,  there  were  explanations  on  both  sides. 
However,  her  delusion  rendered  much  explana 
tion  unnecessary.  But  to  this  day  she  boldly 
asserts  that  she  called  him  back  by  the  magic 
of  her  voice,  and  who  shall  gainsay  her? 


END. 


Date  Due 


PRINTED   IN   U.S.A. 


CAT.    NO.    24    161 


